Royal Escapade with the Billionaire

IV

IV

When I was ten, I had asked my mummy to whom I had inherited my features. She had simply answered that I looked like my great grandmother, the beloved Queen Eva.

Her pictures scattered all over the palace. She was beautiful and every time I looked at her, it seemed like I was staring at myself in a mirror. There were no doubt my sky blue eyes, small yet pointed nose, thin lips, round-shaped face and my light blonde curls were all similar to her.

I remembered the books I had read about her from being a direct descendant of a duke up to her time to lead the country. Many people had loved her because of her good deeds, but all of her achievements had vanished when she had killed herself.

If the documentary I had watched before had told me right, the autopsy report of the queen had presented two weeks after her death. However, the autopsy report I had found in the storage room dated two days after she passed away. The question in my head what the difference between the two reports, beside to their dates, were. I had a feeling that the cause of queen's death probably hidden behind the walls of the palace.

I closed the door of my room and locked it. It was no use though because the royal guard assigned to me had a spare key for my room. They could invade my privacy anytime.

My sanctuary had the same size with the presidential suite of a hotel. It was a normal room in the palace, there was a queen size in the middle of the floor, a personal bathroom beside the walk-in closet, a mini living area with a couch and tea table, bookshelves of different novels, study table and swivel chair, and portraits of me and my family hung in the wall.

The roughness of the folder's surface seeped in through my palm. It gave me simulated pain and, at the same time, fear. I was not sure if I could absorb the facts I would learn within these papers, but I was certain I needed to know those things.

Trembling, I turned the lid and the 'Autopsy Report' of Queen Eva exposed to the light coming from the chandelier. My fingertips traced the date across her name. This was the time the report had made and completed.

I swallowed hard as my eyes moved to every letter of the document. I was expecting something, but the further I read the more I got nervous.

As what the history book told every reader, Queen Eva hung herself in her room. She had suffered depression and anxiety attack that had resulted on committing suicide.

However, this report gave a different cause of death. I blacked out for a moment when the words glared at me.

Poisoning.

I looked around. I felt someone was watching me. Although my door still closed and I was alone in my room, I could not remove the panic mixed with my emotions. There might be people inside or outside the palace knew about this and chose to hide the real reason of her death.

Just under the all caps lock phrase 'cause of death', the manner of death seemed printed in blood. Dark blood of whoever person had erased and rewrote the ending of the beloved queen of England.

My sight shook as the word 'Homicide', which had been engraved there for more than thirty years ago, creepily showed up.

My mind ran hundred miles per hour. Homicide meant there was a culprit and foul play. A person killed Queen Eva and this person-killer-possibly the one who had played the part of changing homicide to suicide.

The reason. What was the reason?

Still holding Queen Eva's presumptive real death, I scanned the next paper. It was also an autopsy report of a person named David Bishop. I was not familiar with the name so I immediately got my mobile from my end table and typed each letter with quivering fingers in the Google search bar.