The Pretender and The Prince novel Chapter 51

Meanwhile, back in Riverdale.

The evidence against Chantal’s father, Vincent, was irrefutable, and the prosecution was preparing to file charges. Yarden Henson, knowing full well what his son had done, accepted that Vincent’s fate was sealed. The impending imprisonment of his son, the flight of his daughter-in-law with the family fortune, and the imminent collapse of his company was too much for the old man. The shock triggered a cerebral hemorrhage, and he was rushed to the hospital.

Despite the doctors’ best efforts, Yarden passed away in the middle of the night.

At the hospital, Chantal’s grief was a raw, ragged thing, her sobs echoing in the sterile hallways. Garland Sheppard came to pay his final respects to the old man who had once helped him.

Chantal was now an orphan. Feeling indebted to Yarden, Garland brought her back to live with the Sheppard family.

Ellis Sheppard had been spiraling for days. He locked himself in his room, drinking until he was numb. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out any hint of light. He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, surrounded by a mess of cigarette butts and empty bottles. In the smoke-filled darkness, he was unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes, looking like a man who had lost all hope.

A loud banging rattled the door.

“Ellis, get the hell out here!” Garland’s furious voice boomed from the hallway.

Ellis didn’t move, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“If you don’t come out, I’m kicking this door down!” Garland roared.

Still, Ellis remained motionless, clutching an empty bottle, tears streaming down his face as he whispered her name over and over. “Ondine… Ondine…”

He had tried every possible way to find her, but she had simply vanished. His initial sadness and regret had curdled into a bleak despair that had consumed him for over a month. The first few days after she cut contact, he had been anxious but still functional. But after going to her house and learning about Yvaine’s cancer, the guilt of his deception had become unbearable. He had slapped himself until his face was swollen, his self-loathing a physical thing.

Since then, he had shut himself away, refusing to eat or leave his room, tormenting himself with memories of their time together. Each memory was a fresh wave of agony that he tried to drown with alcohol and nicotine.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify