Heir of Deception | (for mature audience)

Chapter 23: Alexandria

Alexandria

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Fashion Month has officially concluded, and I can hardly contain my relief. After the announcement of my engagement to Christian, the paparazzi has been relentless, capturing every moment and plastering our faces across the front pages of countless pop culture blogs and shows. The excitement surrounding our relationship has been both exhilarating and overwhelming.

My phone has been blowing up with messages from friends and family, showering me with their excitement and congratulations. Yet, amidst all the joy, there’s one response that has left a hollow ache in my chest: my father's.

It's difficult to articulate exactly what I expected from him. Perhaps I longed for a sign, some tangible indication that he was genuinely happy for me. After all, I am marrying the man he personally chose for me, a union that should, in theory, fill him with pride and joy. Yet, I have received nothing from him—no call, no message, just silence.

Since I arrived in New York, my life has been a whirlwind. I feel like a bee buzzing tirelessly from one task to another, building my hive. Sofia has been booking gigs for me left and right. I recently completed two campaign shoots, and tomorrow, I’ve got an editorial for a prominent magazine scheduled from 9 AM to 11 AM.

As I entered our penthouse, exhaustion washed over me like a heavy tide. I kicked off my shoes with a sigh of relief, grateful to be home after a long day filled with meetings and fittings.

“I’m exhausted,” I announced, my voice laced with fatigue.

Christian looked up from the kitchen, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “I can tell,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Come, dinner is ready.”

“I’m sorry for being late again,” I said, guilt creeping into my voice as I leaned in to give him a quick kiss. His easy smile was a balm for my weary spirit, and I felt a rush of gratitude for his unwavering support.

“It’s fine, princess,” he reassured me, his tone light and affectionate.

As we settled at the table, I couldn’t help but reflect on how lucky I was to have Christian by my side. His unwavering encouragement and love made the challenges of the fashion industry seem a little less daunting.

“How was your day?” he asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

With a smile, I launched into the details of my hectic schedule: the excitement of the campaign shoots, the creative direction behind the editorial, and the buzz of the fashion community. As I spoke, I noticed the way his eyes lit up with interest, and it filled me with joy to share my experiences with him.

“And we still have to plan the engagement party,” I sighed. Just thinking about it made me feel even more exhausted.

“You know we don’t have to do something big, right?” He took a sip of his wine, his expression thoughtful. “We can just host something intimate with our friends and family here at the penthouse.”

“I know, but I still want it to be great,” I insisted.

“It will be, princess, but you’re overworking yourself,” he replied, his tone firm yet gentle.

“I'm fine, Christian,” I assured him, wanting to brush off his concern.

“You’re not. You’re exhausted, and I can see that,” he countered, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Things have to get done, and I have work obligations,” I said, my voice rising slightly in frustration.

“I’m just saying that you need to slow down,” he insisted, his tone steady.

“Yeah, my schedule will slow down eventually,” I said, trying to sound more optimistic than I felt.

“Okay, but until then, let’s hire someone to plan the engagement party so you can focus on your work and not anything else,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” I said, putting my fork down, feeling a mix of defeat and acceptance.

“Have you finished eating?” he asked, glancing at my half-empty plate.

“Yeah. I’m full,” I replied, even though I knew I hadn’t eaten much. I could see concern etched on his face. The little I had consumed felt like more than enough; I could hardly force myself to eat more without risking feeling sick.

He gave me a look of concern before picking up my plate and carrying it to the kitchen.

We shared another glass of wine before heading to bed. As I settled in, the weight of the day’s events lingered in my mind. Christian’s concern for me was sweet, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being overwhelmed. My thoughts drifted back to my father, and the hollow response to my engagement gnawed at me. I longed for his approval, yet it felt as if I were chasing shadows.

Christian wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. His warmth was comforting, and I allowed myself to relax for a moment. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to get some rest,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as him.

“Then close your eyes, princess, and get some rest. You need it,” he replied, placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

As sleep began to pull me under, I made a mental note to reach out to my father soon. It was time to bridge the gap, to seek the connection I craved. Perhaps sharing my joy in person would spark the response I had been longing for. I fell asleep with that thought, comforted by the knowledge that, no matter what, Christian would be by my side through it all.