Page 115 of Tall, Royal Hater
I’d crumpled in her arms and sobbed. Loud, agonised roars of hurt and anger and rejection.
It was the one and only time I had cried over him.
After that, I’d clung on to my hatred and vowed never to be like him. I’d vowed to protect and love everyone I cared about with my full being the way he never had.
I signed up to the Army not long after, on top of training to be Esmeralda’s private secretary, and worked day and night to be the best, strongest, and most informed version of myself. I was officially appointed to my role at twenty-one, almost a year before Esmeralda went off to university.
I’d never looked back since.
At least not until nine months ago when the whole Mum and Prince Arsh thing had come to light.
“I was…surprised,” my father said, dragging me away from memory lane, “that you had wanted to see me, let alone actually come to see me.”
I grunted. A bitter taste coated my mouth that had nothing to do with the coffee I had yet to touch. “Is that why you let them humiliate me then kicked me to the curb and told me never to show my face again? Is that how a father who was ‘surprised’to see his son is supposed to act?”
“I never said I was proud of the way I acted.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“For multiple reasons. I’d become hard-hearted. A part of me believed maybe you were only after money. I had closed that chapter of my life, and I did not want to reopen it. And…and the way they treated you.” Cracks spiderwebbed through the hardness of his stare. “My grandfather had passed, but the threat my wife and father posed to you was great. I did not want you near that.”
I shook my head slowly and growled in disgust, “You’re nothing but a selfish coward.”
A muscle in his jaw pulsed as he clenched his teeth. “One day, when you have children, you will understand that sometimes being a coward is the only way to protect them.”
“No.” I jerked towards him. “When I have children, they will know how important they are to me, because I will never put my life above theirs. I will never cower when it comes to protecting them.”
Andrew Platmon held still and silent before he lowered his gaze to his untouched sandwich. After a tense moment, he lifted his lashes. “If it means anything, I greatly regret what I said.”
“It means nothing,” I said, leaning back into my chair. Cold, empty, and detached.
Silence weighed down on the café’s atmosphere like a building on the verge of collapsing.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I said. “Why now? Aren’t your wife and father still alive? How is the threat any different to me if that’s what you care so much about?”
He pulled his coffee cup back towards himself though didn’t pick it up. “My father is bedridden with cancer. He will not last long.”
I wasn’t apologetic upon hearing that. The fucker deserved to die. Miserably.
I angled a brow. “So, he’s the one dying.”See, you are a coward,was how my tone sounded.
“He is.” Andrew Platmon smiled slightly. “And I look forward to the day he does.” That surprised me, though I didn’t let it show. “The day we found out he had cancer was the day I reached out to your mother.” The correlation wasn’t clear until he added, “I had been happy to hear that my father was sick, and in hoping for his death, I realised I did not want you to feel the same way about me.” Sincerity softened the rough lines of his face. “I wanted to apologise to you for the way things turned out, even if it did not lead to your forgiveness.”
“I don’t forgive you,” I said instantly. Defensively. I didn’t want to forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And I didn’t want him to think this meeting had changed anything.
“I expected so much.” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to droop. Only momentarily before he straightened his shoulders. “As for my wife and son, you have nothing to fear. She knows she will lose her financial privileges if she hurts you, and Johnny…” He frowned. “Johnny is a lost cause, though even he is not stupid enough to attempt treason.” His face melted again into the loving look of a proud father, and the sharp pang of jealousy I felt was acute. “Ablah, on the other hand—your half-sister—is excited to meet you. She is the only one who knows I am here today.”
I bristled, a frown falling over my brows. “What? I don’t intend to meet anyone from your family.”
A mix of surprise and confusion filtered over Andrew Platmon’s eyes. “Whyever not?”
Was he fucking serious?
I stared him dead in the eyes. “Because your family are the ones who hurt my mother. That’s why.”
“Ablah played no part in that. And I—”
“No.” Trying to find my place among royalty now that Mum was marrying Prince Arsh was hard enough as it was. I couldn’t deal with finding my place in another circle of rich people Ihad nothing in common with. Especially not one where half the people hated my existence.
