The Pretender and The Prince novel Chapter 5

The next morning, Ondine was up before dawn, making breakfast. Yvaine hadn’t slept well either; sharp pains in her stomach had woken her up several times. But not wanting to worry her daughter, she had endured it in silence, only pretending to wake up when Ondine called her for breakfast.

Ondine had no appetite. While her mother ate, she packed a bag with things she would need for the hospital stay.

When Yvaine finished and went into the bedroom, she found her daughter sitting on the bed, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Yvaine sighed, and as she turned away, a tear escaped her own eye.

With the bag packed, Ondine took her mother by the arm and led her outside. Just as they stepped out of the building, a familiar black Maybach pulled up to the curb, and Ondine froze.

The driver got out and approached them. “Ms. Sterling,” he said respectfully, “my boss sent me to pick you up.”

Ondine’s breath caught in her throat. Her first instinct was to refuse, but a gust of wind cut through the frigid December morning, and she saw her mother shiver. With her immune system so weak, she couldn’t be standing out in the cold. Besides, he was already here. It would be rude to turn him away now.

“Thank you,” Ondine said politely.

The driver took their bag and placed it in the trunk. “Where to, Ms. Sterling?”

“Meridian Hospital.”

“Right away.”

A few minutes into the drive, Yvaine asked, “Ondine, who sent the driver for us?”

Ondine hesitated for a moment. “It was Zaria’s brother,” she replied softly.

She stared at their chat history. They almost never talked. Before her transfer last night, their last exchange had been on her birthday three months ago. He’d sent a “Happy Birthday,” and she’d replied with a “Thank you.” Before that, it was a “Merry Christmas” and her “You too.”

Ondine typed out a new message: “Thank you for sending the driver to pick us up.” She paused, added “Seth” to the beginning, and then changed “you” to sound a bit more formal before hitting send.

After sending the message, she closed the chat and her eyes landed on the pinned contact at the top of her list. Her breath hitched. She’d been so distracted last night that she’d completely forgotten to deal with Ellis. Seeing the contact name—“My Love”—now just felt like a cruel joke.

Her first impulse was to block him, but then she thought of her mother’s illness and hesitated. They had been together for two years. For two years, she had cooked for him, cleaned for him, and worked three jobs for him. Surely, even if you raise a pet for two years, you develop some kind of attachment, right?

She remembered hearing that he’d once spent thirty thousand on a purse for someone else. If she asked him for a loan, would he help her?