𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡

𝐟 𝐨 𝐫 𝐭 𝐲 - 𝐟 𝐨 𝐮 𝐫

Dear diary,

The second week of school went alright. I am starting to get the hang of what is being taught, and only remembered a few of my classmates' names out of forty people because I am bad with names like that. Surprisingly, Sha has not gotten sick of me yet and it feels nice having a friend as well. Everyone else has been decent to me and I would say I've been adapting quite smoothly. I got to try out many different food cuisines, but the weather is sometimes annoying because it rains almost every single day.

It is almost the end of the month and I still haven't gotten the monthly text I am supposed to get from Nicandro. I guess he has gotten too busy for me. But I can see the work he has done for Spain, and I couldn't be prouder of him for gaining back the royal name back. Since I left, the protests have gotten much worse and it was also revealed that Felon's real name is Rodrigo. There was this whole case in front of a judge and thankfully Nicandro's entire family was not dethroned.

What worries me the most is that no one has heard from Felon since the night of the winter ball. He must have been delighted that Nicandro's grandfather is dead but obviously not pissed that the family which abandoned him still claims the title. Sometimes I have nightmares of him breaking into the castle again and shooting up everyone in Nicandro's family.

It really does feel nice to be living a normal life. Going shopping in a mall, reading about celebrities gossip, making new friends and discovering new hobbies. Speaking of hobbies, I recently have gotten into ice skating. But I guess it would feel nicer if Nicandro was in it...

"Dinner is ready!" I heard Breton's calling and put my diary into the drawer below my desk before heading down to the living room.

The aroma of teriyaki chicken and mashed potatoes filled my nose and I felt my stomach grumble, "Smells good," I commented on his cooking skills. He could've totally been a chef if he wasn't a lawyer.

I went on to help him set the table and we sat at the opposite ends of the table for dinner. I let out a 'hmm' sound as I took a bite of the teriyaki chicken. It's freaking delicious.

"So you're managing with school alright?" Breton asked as he took a sip of his red wine.

I swallowed the mashed potato, "I'm getting the hang of it. I got a physics test tomorrow, I think I can nail it."

"That's great, think you'll be able to manage on your own soon? I don't want Susan to suck up more money in my wallet than she has to, her fees are bloody expensive."

I let out a soft snort. Susan Hargrove, my private tutor for the past three months. Her portfolio was super shiny; top in her class in her private high school graduated from Yale and worked at a prestigious law firm in New York for ten years. Breton knew her from when he worked with that law firm in a supreme court case together. About five years ago she decided to switch her line of work to private tutoring. She has tutored the president of America's daughter, a countess in Brighton and several billionaires' children from around the world.

And then there's me, an orphan who lived on the streets for four years and didn't receive any education. Off the books, I'm the biological descendant of two very famous drug lords and have an inheritance to three five star hotels.

"I was thinking of letting her tutor me for another month, till I'm sure I can handle it."

Breton nodded this head, "Of course, but I'm positive you can handle it. I don't think I've seen someone as eager about education than you."

I shrugged and put another piece of teriyaki chicken into my mouth, "I guess that's what happens when someone is deprived of education for four years."