Lover of Mine | h.s. |

34

For the first time in a long while, I was trying to stay spend time with my family in one of our many gathering rooms.

My brother and mother sat on a sofa, myself on one of my favorite plushed chairs, and my father at the wooden desk that occupied the room.

I had a book in my hand, and although it was flipped open so the pages were revealed, my eyes wouldn't focus on the words no matter how hard I tried.

I was anxious for what was to come.

It was a few days after Zayn and I had plotted to take down not only the prime minister but my father as well, and the minute the sun rose that morning, Zayn was out of the castle walls, trekking to a news station.

We made sure to do research before he went, making sure that whatever story the journalists decided to write portrayed both Harry and me as the victims.

Which was the honest truth.

There was nothing wrong in what we had done, we were just young lovers who decided to take a liking to one another.

Almost every news anchor that we checked had numerous articles written about the two of us, showing their support through thick and thin, so choosing the news station to talk to wasn't as hard as we originally thought.

Zayn chose the closest one to his home, not wanting it to be too close to the ones near the castle, just incase someone saw him drop the box off, before making sure to keep himself unidentified by wearing a hood and other clothing to keep him hidden.

If all had went well, the person he had talked to didn't question him, and didn't open the box that contained everything that they needed until Zayn had exited the building.

Now all we had to do was wait until the newspaper was printed.

Which turned out to be this morning.

The paper had just arrived in the room on a silver platter, the servant holding the tray stopping at my mother first before walking over to my father's desk.

He waits for my father to take the paper but Father just waves a hand aside, not bothering to look up from the paperwork that's on his desk.

"Not now." He mutters, readjusting the glasses that were slipping down his nose.

The servant looks at him for a moment before his eyes scan the room, landing on me.

Our eyes meet and a silent conversation seems to take place.

He had read the paper already, he knew what it consisted of and knew that my family was most likely going to be ruined. Yet he was still bringing the paper to my father, only for him to wave it away.

He had no idea that his career was going to be over in a flash.

I motion to the servant to place the paper somewhere on the desk before watching him do so, his face paling ever so slightly before scurrying out of the room.

"What can't they understand about me waving my hand? It's clearly a dismissal that I don't want anything they have." Papa says, sighing.

"It's their job to offer you stuff, Dad. Just let them be." Oliver replies, staring up at the ceiling.

Beside him, my mother unfolds the newspaper, turning the front up to face her.

I watch as her eyes nearly pop out of her head when she reads the headline, then looks at the pictures.

Her eyes snap up to me then for a short moment, worry flashing in her eyes before they look over at her husband.

"Honey," she begins, her hands clutching the paper.