Alexandria was only ever meant to be a princess. A scandalous socialite to grace the covers of gossip magazines and twitters trending page.
When her older brother tragically dies in a suicide, Alexa suddenly becomes the next heir to the English thr...
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this chapter will be split into two parts. *Authors note*: tissues may be needed
The song is ended, but the melody lingers on. -Irving Berlin
♛•♛•♛
"What is it." I asked Harold, whose face was pale. We were in a private office, but in the background I could hear the echo of classical music and champagne glasses clinking.
He stood from the velvet sofa he'd been talking fervently and low with Mei on. Kitty was there too, wringing her hands nervously in her periwinkle dress. When she saw me her face paled but she didn't rush over like she normally would have.
"Oh Alfie." She said, her voice tight.
Hearing the anxiety in her voice made my hands clammy. I began to feel a spreading heat, like a rash against my chest and throat. I was going to suffocate.
"What is it." I repeated.
Harold just nodded to Mei, before turning around, his hands on his waist, staring at painting like if he didn't acknowledge whatever the hell was going on, it would make it less true.
She opened her mouth, but only silence escaped her lips. At the same time the doors rumbled open and for a split second I could hear the sounds from the ballroom before a thick quiet resumed with a resounding thud.
My mother, father, and Alexandria stood panicked alongside members of their office.
What the fuck.
"He doesn't know yet." Harold said alarmed, his hands splayed out, preventing my father from speaking. His eyes widened and he mumbled a quick, Your majesty, before placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I was so confused and in a quick fury Mei stood up and placed her iPad in my hand.
Oh
I nearly dropped it, swaying, but Harold's grip was firm and he kept me standing.
"Our first motion will be denial-" Mr. Aubrey, my fathers equerry, a thin-lipped and serious man, said. "We'll insist this a manufacturing of sorts. Advanced photoshopping, or someone who looks a lot like Prince Alfred."
"You can't" I said, my voice shattered. "It's me."
I looked around, but no one had heard my whisper. Instead the room was quickly being turned into a makeshift office as PR teams prepared their plans.
"We need to find whoever is in this photo and make them sign an NDA." Mr. Aubrey continued.
"He's already signed one." I said, louder this time. This managed to catch their attention, and eyes quickly shifted towards me. "He- he's an employee of the crown."
