His End

5

It's getting a bit heated in today's chapter, and I'm excited to know what you think of the story! Please vote/comment if you want to! Nice comments will get a dedicated chapter just for them to show you how grateful I am that we are on this journey together! Remember to follow to not miss an update!

On that note, we hit 42 reads! Hopefully we can hit 50 soon!

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E

Cade raises a hand. A man dressed in uniform steps out from the shadows, standing to attention.

"Let's get some non-lethal beverages in here." Cade hums, sinking into a chair without a care in the world. "The usual. And bring the file."

The man nods quickly, hurrying towards the door.

"Wait."

Maxin's command halts the butler in his tracks. He nervously fixes his shirt. "Yes, Sir?"

But Maxin doesn't look at him. He looks at me. Expectantly.

"Of course!" Cade claps his hands in sudden remembrance. "The lady doesn't drink."

Understanding washes over me. Maxin is waiting for me to order.

What is this? Some backhanded apology? Another trick?

"I'll have water." I say, hesitation in my tone. I wasn't born yesterday. Whatever they bring me, I'm not touching it.

Maxin nods, barely a flicker of movement, and the butler hurries away.

We've barely sat down in our seats, Maxin and I on opposite sides, Cade lounging uncomfortably close to me, when the man returns, pushing a tray of glass tumblers. He pours Cade a worryingly tall drink of colourful wine, Maxin a short glass of amber liquid.

My water sits in front of me, seemingly innocent. But that's not all. The butler places a single piece of paper on the table.

Confused, I glance at him, then Cade, then Maxin. The latter leans back, closing his eyes. I can't figure out what that is all about. It's like he's constantly bored with everything happening around him.

Irritation flickers violently in my chest.

"Curious?" Cade teases, finger trailing the rim of his glass. The silver in his eyes dances, urging me to turn the paper over. I do, but not before noticing the thick gold signet ring on his middle finger.

It bears the symbol of a closed eye, the letters 'N.O' inscribed at the bottom. It's the same symbol stamped on the back of the file in front of me.

On the other side, there's a picture. My picture. The girl on the paper looks so different, so happy. But the name at the top isn't mine.

"Layla?"

Cade raises a glass. "Beautiful name, no? It means night in Arabic."

At my raised eyebrow, he shrugs. "Your mother was from the Middle East."

"No, she wasn't."

Wasn't. The use of past tense sours in my mouth. Like my mother is a memory, a figure from a different life. Looking around at this place, I suppose she is.

"She is now." Cade taps the paper. "This is your identity. If someone asks at the ball, this is what you'll tell them."

My eyes scan the paper, an ominous sort of panic growing in my chest.

"And why would they ask?" I demand, shoving away the paper that holds all sorts of fake details, fake hometown, fake likes, dislikes, fake age.

Cade tilts his head, surprised I still haven't caught on. "Tesoro, it is natural that people will want to meet my brother's lover."