Chapter 2: The Prince
1996 Words
Seven Years Earlier
Reina sat with her nose pressed against the taxi window, completely mesmerized.
November had painted New York in shades of gold and amber.
Leaves skittered across the sidewalks as a chilly breeze sent pedestrians hurrying down the streets with scarves wrapped around their necks and steaming coffee cups clutched between their hands.
Everything seemed bigger.
The buildings stretched toward the sky as if they were trying to touch the clouds. Yellow taxis weaved through traffic while people rushed along crowded sidewalks carrying shopping bags, briefcases, and umbrellas.
The city felt alive.
Like it never stopped moving.
She couldn't imagine living somewhere so busy.
"Careful, Bebesita. If you stare any harder, you'll leave a hole in the glass."
Reina laughed and sat back in her seat.
Her father smiled warmly at her.
Vidal Hernandez had been smiling more than usual during the trip. It made Reina happy. Her father worked so hard all year long that she rarely saw him relax.
This trip was special.
He had spent months saving for it.
Her twelfth birthday present.
"Do you think Uncle Carlos really lives in a mansion?" she asked.
Vidal chuckled.
"Maybe not a mansion."
"So it's normal?"
"No."
Reina narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You're teasing me."
"Maybe."
She huffed and crossed her arms.
Vidal laughed.
The sound made her smile despite herself.
As the taxi turned onto another street, something outside caught Reina's attention.
Her mouth fell open.
The building before her was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
La Paloma.
The gold letters gleamed above the entrance.
The hotel looked like something from a fairy tale.
Large windows reflected the afternoon sunlight. Elegant guests stepped in and out through revolving doors while uniformed valets rushed to greet arriving cars.
Reina stared.
"You like it?" Vidal asked.
"It's beautiful."
His smile softened.
"It is."
She practically bounced out of the taxi.
The moment they entered the lobby, she nearly forgot how to breathe.
Crystal chandeliers hung overhead.
Fresh flowers decorated every corner.
The marble floors gleamed beneath her feet.
Everyone looked rich.
Everyone looked important.
And suddenly Reina became very aware of her simple green dress.
She glanced down at herself.
A few moments ago she had loved the dress.
Now it felt plain.
Ordinary.
She moved a little closer to her father.
As if sensing her thoughts, Vidal rested his hand on her shoulder.
"Bebesita."
Reina looked up.
"The room doesn't become more valuable because of the chandelier."
She frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means people are people."
His smile widened.
"Whether they're wearing a designer suit or paint-covered overalls."
Reina thought about that.
"And you're just as important as anyone in this building."
The knot in her stomach loosened.
Her father always knew exactly what to say.
A familiar voice interrupted them.
"She has your stubborn look."
Vidal froze.
Reina turned.
A tall man stood several feet away.
His dark suit looked expensive.
Not flashy.
Expensive.
Silver threaded through the dark hair near his temples.
The lines around his eyes were deeper than the photographs Reina had seen.
He was broad-shouldered and carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to being listened to.
His bown eyes were sharp and observant, the kind that seemed to notice everything.
For a moment, Reina understood why people found him intimidating.
Then the man's face broke into a smile.
A real one.
The kind that transformed his entire face.
"Big brother."
Vidal laughed.
The sound was immediate.
Unforced.
And suddenly he looked years younger.
"Carlos."
The two men closed the distance between them and embraced.
A real embrace.
Not formal.
Not awkward.
The kind people shared when they genuinely loved each other.
Reina smiled.
She had never seen her father look happier.
When they stepped apart, Carlos kept his hands on Vidal's shoulders for a moment.
Studying him.
The smile remained.
But something else appeared beneath it.
Concern.
"You've lost weight."
Vidal rolled his eyes.
"Hello to you too."
"I'm serious."
"And you're getting old."
Carlos snorted.
"Still annoying."
"Still dramatic."
For a moment they looked exactly alike.
Not in appearance.
In expression.
In the way they smiled.
In the way they looked at each other.
Like no matter how much time passed, they would always be brothers first.
Then something shifted.
Only briefly.
Carlos's gaze lingered on Vidal.
A little too long.
As if noticing something.
As if looking for something.
Vidal noticed too.
Whatever passed between them happened silently.
Then Carlos looked toward Reina.
The moment disappeared.
"And this must be Reina."
Immediately, all of his attention shifted to her.
For a moment, she wasn't sure what to do.
The last time she had seen her uncle, she had been five years old.
Most of her memories from that age were blurry.
Photographs.
Birthday parties.
Fragments.
Not people.
Certainly not him.
Carlos smiled.
A genuine smile.
"So this is the birthday girl."
Reina nodded.
Suddenly feeling shy.
Something that almost never happened.
"Hi."
Carlos laughed softly.
"Hi."
For a second he simply looked at her.
As if trying to reconcile the child he remembered with the girl standing in front of him.
"You look like your mother."
For the briefest moment, something crossed Carlos's face.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Something more complicated.
Something twelve-year-old Reina couldn't understand.
The words slipped out before he seemed to realize he'd said them.
Immediately, something changed.
The smile faded.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Vidal looked away.
Carlos looked away too.
The reaction felt familiar.
Adults always reacted strangely when her mother was mentioned.
Ever since she was little.
She knew why.
At least part of it.
Her mother and Aunt Carmen had died in the same car accident.
It had happened when she was five years old.
Old enough to remember pieces.
Too young to understand them.
She remembered funerals.
Crying.
Whispers.
Long silences whenever adults thought she wasn't listening.
She remembered her father becoming quieter.
She remembered Uncle Carlos disappearing.
And she remembered hearing one thing over and over again.
The accident.
Nobody ever talked about it directly.
Not around her.
But children heard more than adults realized.
Over the years, she pieced together enough to understand the basics.
Her mother had been driving.
Aunt Carmen had been in the passenger seat.
Neither survived.
Everything else remained a mystery.
Carlos cleared his throat.
"And you have your father's eyes."
The tension disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.
But Reina noticed it.
The way both men suddenly avoided looking at each other.
The way the atmosphere shifted.
Only for a moment.
Then Carlos smiled again.
"Welcome to New York, Reina."
"Thank you."
"I hope your father hasn't completely embarrassed you yet."
"Dad embarrasses me professionally."
Vidal groaned.
Carlos laughed.
And just like that, the awkwardness eased.
"Come on," Carlos said.
"Let's get lunch."
As they walked toward the restaurant, movement near the front desk caught Reina's attention.
An elderly woman stood near the reception counter.
She looked distressed.
A hotel employee was trying to explain something to her, but the more he spoke, the more confused she seemed.
"I don't understand," the woman said softly. "My husband always handled these things."
The employee looked helpless.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but without the reservation information—"
He stopped speaking.
Someone had approached.
Reina's eyes immediately shifted toward him.
He looked young.
Much younger than most of the businessmen walking through the lobby.
Maybe twenty-three.
Maybe twenty-four.
Certainly older than her.
But not old.
Not like her uncle.
Not like the executives she saw greeting guests.
Yet somehow everyone seemed to notice when he arrived.
The employee straightened immediately.
Even before anyone addressed him, there was something about him that made it obvious he belonged there.
Not because he demanded attention.
Because he inspired confidence.
The kind of confidence that made people feel everything would be alright once he got involved.
His dark hair was neatly combed back, though a stubborn lock had escaped and fallen across his forehead.
His suit fit perfectly.
His posture was relaxed.
And despite his age, he carried himself like someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
"Mr. Leone."
The employee stepped aside.
The young man nodded politely before turning his attention to the elderly woman.
His serious expression softened.
"Mrs. Thompson?"
For a ridiculous moment, Reina thought he looked exactly the way a prince was supposed to look.
The woman looked embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause trouble."
"You're not causing trouble."
His voice was calm and steady.
The kind of voice that made people listen.
"We'll get this sorted out."
The woman visibly relaxed.
"But my husband always handled the travel plans."
Something flickered across his face.
Understanding.
Not pity.
Understanding.
Without hesitation, he crouched beside her chair so they were eye level.
Reina blinked.
That surprised her.
Someone important shouldn't have to crouch.
At least she didn't think so.
"You don't have to worry about any of this, Mrs. Thompson."
One of the employees hurried over with a glass of water, and he handed it to her himself.
"You're our guest."
The woman accepted the glass with trembling hands.
"We'll take care of everything."
For the first time since Reina noticed her, the woman smiled.
The tension seemed to leave her shoulders instantly.
Reina couldn't stop staring.
He wasn't just handsome.
He was kind.
The kind of kind that seemed effortless.
The kind her father was always talking about.
"Las personas hermosas son raras, no se distinguen por la cara, sino por el alma."
Beautiful people are rare. They are not distinguished by their face, but by their soul.
For some reason, that made him even more handsome.
"Reina."
Her father's voice pulled her back to reality.
"Hm?"
Vidal followed her gaze.
A knowing smile spread across his face.
"Oh."
Immediately, Reina knew she was in trouble.
"Dad."
The smile widened.
"Dad."
Carlos looked toward the front desk and burst out laughing.
"Oh no."
"Uncle Carlos!"
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
His laughter only grew louder.
Even Vidal struggled to keep a straight face.
Reina crossed her arms and looked away.
Her cheeks burned.
The worst part?
They weren't wrong.
Once they were seated, she tried to focus on the menu.
She really did.
Unfortunately, her eyes kept drifting toward the lobby.
She watched him help guests.
Answer questions.
Speak with employees.
Once she saw him carrying an elderly guest's suitcase despite two bellhops trying to take it from him.
Another time he stopped to listen to a little boy excitedly tell him about a toy dinosaur.
The boy's mother looked mortified.
Mr. Leone listened anyway.
Like he genuinely had nowhere more important to be.
Maybe princes were real after all.
"Did you hear me?"
Reina blinked.
"What?"
Carlos laughed.
Vidal shook his head.
"That's the third time I've called your name."
Reina groaned.
"Sorry."
"For someone who claims she doesn't have a crush, you've spent an awful lot of time looking toward the lobby."
"Papa!"
Both men laughed.
For a little while everything felt normal.
Perfect.
The best birthday she had ever had.
Then she noticed something.
Her father wasn't eating.
His smile seemed forced.
The light in his eyes looked dimmer than usual.
A knot formed in her stomach.
"Papa?"
Vidal looked up.
"Yes, Bebesita?"
"What's wrong?"
The laughter disappeared.
Carlos looked down at his plate.
Suddenly the restaurant felt very quiet.
"Nothing is wrong."
Reina narrowed her eyes.
"You promised we wouldn't keep secrets."
Carlos sighed heavily.
"She should know."
Vidal closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them again, they were shining.
"Not today."
"Tell me."
Fear crept into Reina's chest.
Her father reached across the table and took her hand.
For a moment he simply held it.
Then he spoke.
"Bebesita..."
His voice cracked.
"I'm sick."
Reina froze.
The smile vanished from her face.
The world seemed to stop moving.
Before she could speak, Carlos quietly finished what Vidal couldn't.
"Your father has cancer."
- Writer
