Cruel King (Royal Elite #0) by Rina Kent

49





Levi





The king always falls down without his queen.



* * *



Astrid’s father stares down at me even though we’re both sitting at his office.

Uncle says that aristocrats are like that. They like to look down their noses at people. They like thinking they have royal blood and whatnot.

At the end of the day, moguls like the King Enterprises are the real royalties.

However, it’s not my name that I take pride in as I meet Lord Clifford’s icy stares.

It’s not my past or my present.

It’s the future. Mine and Astrid’s.

Lord Clifford listens with a blank expression as I tell him everything I uncovered.

Once he finishes watching the clips of footage I sent, he closes the laptop. Aside from the slight tightening in his jaw, he doesn’t show any reaction.

Man of steel. Just like Jonathan.

His desk is large and made of mahogany wood, but aside from the laptop and his glass of scotch, there aren’t many belongings.

“You do realise that there’s enough evidence to implicate you for arson and withholding evidence. You’re already eighteen, so it’ll be full charges,” he speaks in a calm and composed tone as if he’s in a meeting at the House of Lords.

“Actually, there’s no proof of me doing any arson. I know all the cameras, so I made sure to move in their blind spots. As for withholding evidence, the police lost the footage. Their incompetence isn’t my fault. Last I checked, recovering a spoilt flash drive I found lying about on our property isn’t a crime. Putting all that aside. In case of any charges, Jonathan will make sure I come out unscathed.”

Lord Clifford’s lips pull in a sardonic smile. “You’re that scoundrel’s blood indeed. Does he teach you to be dicks?”

“It’s natural. Comes with the family name.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But he’s holding you on a leash. What you just did will ruin your future and force you to spend seven more years under that tyrant’s hands.”

“How…” I clear my throat. “How did you know that?”

“You think I wouldn’t search the background of someone I found in bed with my only daughter?”

“Touché.”

He takes a sip of his drink without breaking eye contact. “You chose to process this evidence despite threats from Jonathan?”

“Yes,” I say without a sliver of doubt.

“Why?”

“Because I want justice for Astrid.”

“How about justice for your father?” His calm question catches me by surprise.

I look down, trying to school my expression. Since Uncle told me about the accident three years ago, I’ve been having a constant battle with myself.

What I want and what I need.

What I lost and what I can have.

The past and the future.

But I already made the choice.

“You already know.” Lord Clifford puts his glass on the table with a clank.

I nod. “But I still want to see where this goes with Astrid and —”

“Absolutely not.” He cuts me off, standing.

“With all my due respect, Astrid and I have nothing to do with what happened in the past or the feud between you and Uncle. We’re our own people and deserve to be treated as such.”

“You’re not naive enough to think that, are you?” He strides from around the desk to stand in front of me. “The feud between me and that scoundrel King is because he blamed Astrid’s mother for the accident, saying she killed your father. I’ve been trying to prove that something wrong happened. Jasmine was a careful driver and never got a ticket in her entire life.”

“It was an accident in which both of them died.” I grind my teeth. “It’s over. It’s in the past.”

He releases a sigh. “Tell that to my daughter who locked herself in her room for days since she remembered the accident.”

I stand up slowly. “She remembers?”

“Yes.”

“Let me talk to her,” I swallow and say the word I never thought I would say. “Please.”

He shakes his head.

“Astrid and I are the same. We both lost our parents that night. I understand her the best.”

“You understand nothing, son. Astrid is locking herself up because she thinks that her mother killed James. She feels guilty towards you. Seeing you is the last thing she needs.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, using the desk’s edge as support.

Does this mean I lost her once and for all?

No. I won’t accept that.

“One time,” I ask Lord Clifford again. “Let me see her just one more time.”

“Seeing your face will only remind her of her guilt. It’ll hurt her and I promised that won’t happen anymore.” He pauses. “Besides, it was indirect but you participated in her accident. It’s best if you both go separate ways.”

“I don’t want that,” I grit out.

“You never get what you want. Welcome to life.”





At home, I stand in front of the glass chess board and stare down at the black King piece.

Dad always liked playing in black and I picked up the habit since he taught me how to play.