Page 112 of The Princess and the Fraud

It made me incredibly, horribly sad.

“Aaron, dear?” Caroline called into the microphone in a sweet tone. Slicing into our moment as if she were cutting out someone’s heart. “Would you care to grace us with another performance?”

The audience called out to encourage him to come on, but Aaron didn’t move, didn’t even blink. He held perfectly motionless, save for the slight tremble of his shoulders as he breathed in through his nose. He fought to hide it, but the reaction slipped through.

“Thank you for everything, Lovisa,” he said softly, taking a step back. “I hope you forget about me. You deserve to remember what makes you feel alive—not someone who held you back.”

And with that, he turned away.

Aaron stepped out into the stage lights without a backward glance, leaving me in the shadows behind him as the applause swelled. I let out a sharp breath, one that ripped from my throat. My stomach turned as he picked up Caroline’s outstretched hand, and he drew her closer almost mechanically, as if acting on autopilot. The two of them stood amongst the flowers that’d been delivered last night, the ones meant for Aaron’s surprise.

Meant for this moment.

I stood there frozen, staring at them like if I looked long enough, this moment would undo itself. That he’d laugh, come back to me, and say it was all a joke. But he didn’t.

My world blurred as I forced myself to go down the stage’s ramp, the darkness from behind the stage ebbing at my vision. I’d walked away from Aaron before, but this time, it felt like I was leaving behind my cello bow and pretending I could still play Elgar’s Concerto without it. The heartbreak didn’t just settle in—it split me open, instant and raw.

I didn’t remember making it out to the hallway, away from the crowd, but my knees grew too weak to continue on. I slumped my shoulder against the wall, barely registering the ache upon impact.

Inside the music hall, the wave of music came to life.

It was Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto, the same one Aaron had played for Mrs. Holland’s party, and the same one he and I had played together. A simple piece to perform for the fundraiser’s crowd, but I knew why he’d chosen it. His words had been the opening notes.

This… this was the crescendo of his real message: goodbye.

The piece of his heart.

I closed my eyes, listening to the muted progression of the chords as they carried through the walls. Now, though, the once-romantic song carried a mournful quality that I hadn’t noticed before. It might’ve just been my imagination, but when Aaron got to the crescendo, it no longer felt like an anticipatory moment to hold my breath.

Instead, it felt like the moment just before pooling tears spilled over, tracing warm paths down my cheeks.

“I told you he wasn’t going to marry you.”

My eyes opened at the voice behind me, all the sadness that’d welled pressingpause.

“That people like him only show you what they want,” the voice continued, and a figure appeared in my peripheral, all glittering gold and light hair. “You should’ve listened to me.”

I turned to Caroline. I shouldn’t have been shocked by the smugness on her face. She didn’t even try to hide it. “When did you do it?” I asked, throat aching. “When did you poison him?”

“You make it sound so evil,” Caroline said with a roll of her eyes, bringing her champagne up, touching the rim to her cheek. “We ran into each other yesterday afternoon. I was stopping by Grant’s room, and knocked on the wrong door. Silly me.”

Yesterday afternoon.Yesterday afternoon. Before Aaron came out to sit in front of the gas fire, looking lost.

Rage built under my skin, trembling its way to the surface.

“I might’ve let it slip that I knew about his inheritance predicament.”

“So much for being a vault,” I all but spat.

“It was an accident.” She smiled, like even she knew she hadn’t bothered to lie well. “But I told him I’d be a much better bride than Fiona. He’d never have to worry about his secret coming out, since I already knew. But if he stayed with Fiona, then…” She trailed off with a shrug, tipping her flute up.

I watched her closely, mind whirring to find the hidden implication in her words. “Did you threaten to tell Fiona about his plan?”

“Again, why are you painting me to be the bad guy?” She wrinkled her nose. “You do that a lot, you know. I thought we were friends, Lovey.”

But in that moment, listening to her deflect yet again, I knew we’d never been friends. I’d known Caroline well. Knew how to read her moods, knew how to disarm her ticking timebombs. But this version of her? This wasn’t new. It had been there all along. I’d just kept looking past it. She’d always had a cruel streak in her, but it’d always seemed so harmless. Normal, given the atmosphere of Alderton-Du Ponte. But I never thought she’d end up likethis.

If we were friends, the second I told her that I liked Aaron, she would’ve backed off. She would’ve told me up front that her brother had been cheating on me, rather than letting me drop hundreds of dollars on a plane ticket to find out for myself. All along, I’d been the one supporting her, encouraging her, when she only threw me scraps.

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