Page 97 of The Princess and the Fraud

But then it all fell apart. Margot ran off into the sunset with someone else, and his parents found out about his deception, withdrawing from him like he was nothing more than a stain on the family name. What Aaron thought he needed had only pushed him further from what he truly wanted.

“I never thought my parents would’ve cut me off,” Aaron whispered. “Never thought they would’ve… discarded me the way they did.”

I hadn’t been in the courtyard for the entire conversation he’d had with his parents that night, but the coldness in Mrs. Astor’s words still rang in my ears.You’ve done this to yourself.

Cruel. Unforgiving. As if she’d been speaking to a business associate, not her son.

“I thought they would’ve seen my earnestness,” he went on, still softly. “I thought they would’ve seen that all I wanted was to impress them. But I’m not my brothers.”

I wanted to reach for him, to pick up his hand, to wrap my arms around his frame. But he was too far from my reach. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, words so totally inadequate.

Aaron didn’t seem to hear me, anyway. He gaze was trapped on the flames, but I had a feeling his attention was trapped in his thoughts. He wore a look I was sure he’d been wearing that night in the elevator, when the darkness had stolen my view of him. Hurt. Dejected.Heartbroken.

“I lied to you,” he said suddenly. “You asked me before if someone told me I wasn’t made for love. I said no.”

I held my breath. “And that was a lie?”

“That night.” He seemed transported, reliving that night in June, watching it all play out all over again in his mind. “After everything fell apart with Margot. It was the first time outright. My mother—my mother said ‘We should’ve known. As if you would’ve fallen in love.’”

My breath caught.As if you would’ve fallen in love.The words echoed through me like a chill. I could see it—Aaron kneeling before her, fingers curled in her sandal straps, the words hitting him as hard as if she’d kicked at him. It wasn’t just cruel. It was gutting. And the way he said it, it was like he still believed it, as if part of him had swallowed that lie whole and never spit it back out. And I hated it.

My own heart ached for him—for the Aaron Astor who didn’t understand that chasing approval wouldn’t fill the emptiness inside him. And God, it hurt to see him like that—to see all the cracks he tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Screw her,” I said suddenly.

Aaron jolted in his seat, eyes jerking to mine as if I’d said the last thing he expected. “What?”

“Screw her and the rest of your family.” My voice was strong, firm, no room for negotiation. “To hell with anyone who would say anything like that to you.”

He seemed to recognize the words he’d once spoken to me, the shock ebbing from his vision and settling back into something I couldn’t name. “I admire your fire, my dear. I wish I had some of it.”

His tone reminded me of another part of our conversation before, back in June, in front of this very firepit.

Do you ever feel like you wake up one day and realize that this isn’t the life you thought you’d have?I’d asked him.That you just… resent it all?

All the time.

And what do you do about it?

Absolutely nothing.

Except this time, Aaron jumped.

Calling things off with Fiona was like me walking away from Mom’s dream house—a big step, one that I knew would change the trajectory of things. Not marrying Fiona meant no business to inherit, no money to back him. Aaron ending things with Fiona meant he had to give up the part of him that so badly wanted to impress his family. His family, who had nothing but harsh words for him, love dependent on achievements.

Parents who would disown him, make him believe he wasn’t made for love. Back then, he’d allowed those poisonous words to seep in, to suffocate him. But tonight, he jumped. And just like it’d been a painful choice for me, I was sure it’d been an impossible choice for him.

But he made it.

I wanted to hug him. Much like he’d embraced me during my hardest moments, reaffirmed he was there for me, I wanted to do the same for him. In that moment, looking at Aaron from across the fire, with the stars out and shining down on us, there was no mistaking it. Before, back in June, there’d been a similar feeling in the air, but I was sure of it now.

I got to my feet and turned off the gas firepit. Aaron watched wordlessly, and his eyes followed me as I rounded to stand directly in front of him. I held my hands out. “Come with me,” I told him.

His expression was wary. “Where?”

“Trust me?”

Aaron’s gaze lowered to my outstretched hands. There wasn’t a second that I thought he wouldn’t take them, but I waited for it to be his choice. And then, much as I had been magnetized to him before, his hands lifted, magnetized to mine now. “Without a doubt.”

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