Suits, Crowns And Love: A CEO's Royal Secret

By morning, her brother may be dead. He is dying and she can't save him. She doesn't even have the money to try. The walls of the tiny bungalow feel like they are closing in, trapping the cold and despair in equal measure. The wind howls outside, but it is the silence, thick with the smell of sickness and fear that makes Elara Vane feel like she can’t breathe. Elias, her younger brother, lies on the couch, his limbs too still, his face alarmingly dull beneath the faint yellow lamplight. His lips are dry and cracked. His breathing is a faint, whistling rasp that comes slower and slower, as if his lungs are forgetting how to keep him tethered to life. Sweat clings to his temples. His eyes, when they flutter open, are dull, unfocused, as if the world has already begun fading from view. Elara's curls cling to her damp cheeks, brown eyes wild with panic, grief etched into them. “El… ” he murmurs. She crouches beside him, voice shaking. “I’m right here, Lias. I’ve got you, okay? Just hold on.” It hurts to see him like this. Her once-lively brother who used to be a young, agile man who loved talking, now too weak to speak above a whisper. Her fingers press against his wrist, searching for the pulse she is terrified she wouldn’t find. Her heart hammers in her chest, louder than the storm outside, louder than her breath. She doesn’t know how to stop this. The nurse had said the infection was spreading too quickly. They need stronger medication. Oxygen, maybe. An emergency room. Something. But the hospital bills are already backed up. She hasn’t even paid for the last round of antibiotics. She glances towards the door. What's more, the hospital is over an hour away, and they have no car. Not tonight. Not ever. It is the dead of night, and even if they can find someone willing to drive them, Elias wouldn’t make it that long. She knows it. She can feel it in the way his chest rises slower, in the way his hands barely twitch in hers. A sob catches in her throat, sudden and sharp, like broken glass. Her brother speaks, his words filled with painful effort “Ellie, I don't, don't think I can hold on…” “Don’t do this,” she begs. “Please, Elias. Please don’t go.” His chest heaves, uneven, and then stalls. Elara freezes. “Elias?” she calls, panic crashing over her like a wave. “Elias!” A moment later, his body jerks with another ragged gasp. He is still there, but barely. She lets out a strangled cry, her tears spilling, her knees folding beneath her. Her palms are pressed together in helpless prayer, though she can't form the words. And then, three sharp knocks at the door. Her breath catches. The sounds echo like gunshots in the stillness. She turns slowly, confused, dazed, heart in her throat. Another knock. Firm. Steady. Out of place in this crumbling world. Elara blinks through her tears, disoriented. Who would be knocking at this hour? The town sleeps early, and nobody comes around after dark unless something is wrong. Then she rises, legs trembling, each step toward the door feeling heavier than the last. Her hand hovers over the handle. She opens it. And there he is. Dael Thorne stands tall against the dim porch light, the collar of his lush, black suit turned up against the wind. Broad-shouldered, sculpted-jawed, and incredibly handsome, he looks like a man carved out of luxury, out of place in Elara's home with its leaky ceiling and peeling paint. Her body locks in place when she sees him. The air thickens. The last time she’d seen that face, she’d been against the wall of a five-star hotel room, cheeks burning, heart racing, her hands pressed to his bare chest, as his strong arms caught her waist. Now, her eyes, wide with grief and terror, stare up at him like he is some kind of cruel hallucination. Inside, Elias gives a shuddering gasp. The kind of breath that sounds final. Tears streak her cheeks. Her lips tremble. Dael’s eyes flick toward the sound, then back to her. “Elara,” he says. She doesn't answer. But everything between them, the tension, fear, familiarity and desperation, crash in one frozen heartbeat. She hasn’t seen him in weeks. And now he stands here, like poison dressed as a cure.