Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6) by Rina Kent

That’s when her mental health takes a sharp dive and she doesn’t get out of bed for days. She doesn’t write or take jogs, she just hides in her room.

Lately, it’s as if life has been blown into her, and I know why. She’s been going out a lot lately for tea with Ronan’s mother or for dinners with the company people — people because Mum doesn’t like anything about William’s business. She’s only keeping the fort until I’m of age to take over.

However, Mum hasn’t really been going for tea or to those dinners. For one, Ronan’s mother is often out of the country with her husband. For two, Mum has been dressing more elegantly than usual.

I figure it’s a man, but I want to hear it from her. If he’s making my mum happy, I’ll give him a chance. But if he as much as gives off any ‘William Syndrome’ signs of violence, he’ll end up in that blood pool.

“Listen, honey.” She stands across from me. “Ever since your father’s death, you’ve been my world and the reason I’ve held on to life. You’re everything to me, Cole. I need you to know that.”

“I do.” She’s tried. In her own way. But Mum and I are already broken beyond repair.

Or I am, anyway.

No breakfast she prepares can fix the close relationship we could’ve had.

William took that with him.

Seems as though Mum has found the glue that’s put her back together.

“I’m happy, you know that?” She touches her hair again. “I met someone and we’ve been going out for nearly a year now. I didn’t want to tell you about him until I made sure we were serious. We are, darling. He makes me feel like I deserve a second chance and it’d mean so much to me if you accept him.”

“As long as he’s not my age,” I joke.

“No, of course not.” She smiles awkwardly. “But he’s someone you know.”

“Someone I know?”

She swallows. “Sebastian.”

I nearly drop the unfinished slice of cake to the plate. Not much surprises me, but this definitely does. “Sebastian Queens?”

She nods.

“Silver’s father?” I know I’m starting to sound redundant and like a fucking idiot, but it’s like my brain is unable to process the information.

“I know you two don’t get along so much, but Seb and I are hoping you’ll be closer with time.”

Seb. She’s calling him Seb. They’re already close.

And now I’m getting unwelcome images about Silver’s dad and my mum.

“Honey?” Mum’s face contorts. She keeps touching her hair and her apron and her hand, which means she’s getting out of sorts.

The idea that I won’t accept Sebastian is throwing her in an endless loop. If I tell her no, she’ll choose me — I have no doubt about that — but she’ll relapse back to acute depression. She’ll need her meds again. She won’t put on makeup or let her hair loose. She’ll stop singing and jogging and getting out of bed.

I’ll never hurt my mother that way.

When I was six and William threw a pan at me, she hugged me and took the entire hit on her back. Then he kicked her in the ribs for getting in his way. She had those bruises for weeks. She cried in the shower every night.

But she still protected me every time William came after me, taking all the beatings on my behalf.

She still loved me, even when she was at her lowest.

“I’d love to meet Sebastian as your prospect other half, Mum.”

Her features light up. “R-really?”

“Really.” I stand, round the counter, and engulf her in a hug. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh, darling.” She cries into my neck. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

I pat her back. “And you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Silver hates me, but soon enough, she’ll be forced into having every dinner with me.

And she’ll pay.

I might not like Silver Queens, but I’ve always considered her something sacred.

And mine.

She ruined that.

She ruined everything.





9





Silver





The following day, I don’t go to school.

As soon as Derek stops in front of Mum’s building, I rush out, my heartbeat nearly eradicating me altogether.

Mum lives down the centre of London, where it’s noisy and the traffic is suffocating. It’s her way to stay amongst people — even if they’re the most annoying type.

The concierge, an old man with a beard, greets me and I gulp so I can speak over the tightness in my throat. “I-is Mum upstairs? Did you check on her?”

“Mrs. Davis asked us not to disturb her.”

My knees weaken. I nearly fall right there and then.

No.

No, Mum. You promised.

He’s saying something else, but I don’t listen to him over the buzz in my ears. It’s like I’m pushed a few years back. It’s the same scene, the same foreboding, and the same deadly fear.

It’s all there.

I hit the lift’s button, but it doesn’t come down.

I storm towards the stairs and take two at a time. My knees still shake, but I manage to go all the way to the tenth storey. I’m panting, my uniform’s shirt sticks to my skin, but that’s the least of my worries.