My Dream Lover

Chapter5

ALEX

"Elise?" I managed to say, my voice trembling. "It's you. I found you."

She looked at me like I was a complete lunatic.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was harsh, and completely American, no accent at all.

I froze. “I mean, you’re Elise, right? Elise Varga?"

"Yes.” She eyed me from head to toe angrily. "And I don't know who you are, but you've got the wrong room."

She slammed the door right in my face.

I stood there for a moment, feeling small and stupid. It wasn’t her. In fact, she had no idea what I was talking about.

Sure, she had green eyes, and when I asked, she said her name was Elise, but she wasn't my Elise. There was no connection when I looked at her. I felt nothing.

The girl in front of me didn't have any dark bags under her eyes. She didn't look drained or weary. She stood tall, strong, and full of energy, staring at me like I was some creep who had lost his mind.

My private investigators were probably just sick of coming back empty-handed month after month.

They knew how desperate I was getting, so they pulled a few strings, found a girl who looked somehow like the sketch, and set this whole thing up just to make me feel better for a second.

But it didn’t work.

If anything, I felt even worse.

But one thing is sure, I wasn’t going to stop looking.

***

The call came at 7:13 on a Friday morning.

“The King is asking for you.”

I stopped halfway through signing a contract and looked up at the middle aged man standing across my office.

For ten years, I had managed to keep Kingswell exactly where I wanted it—across an ocean and out of my life. Until that call came.

My father had never summoned me home before. Not once.

We had spoken over the years, of course. Birthdays, anniversaries and some special occasions.

But he had never asked me to come home. Not until now.

“He’d like you to return to Kingswell,” his assistant continued, her voice carefully controlled as if she rehearsed it before calling me. “As soon as you’re able.”

“Is he all right?” There was a pause.

“He would prefer to speak to you himself.”

I cancelled everything on my schedule, handed my company over to the people I trusted most, and boarded a plane two days later.

***

The moment I stepped through the palace doors, something inside me shifted.

I had expected the place to feel foreign after ten years away. But it didn’t. I’d underestimated how hard the nostalgia would hit.

The stone walls were exactly as I remembered them. The tall windows still flooded the entrance hall with sunlight.

Portraits of generations of Hales watched silently from their golden frames, their eyes following me as though they had been waiting for my return.

Even the gardens looked the same.

For a moment, I was sixteen again, sneaking out through the corridor to escape studying with my tutor.

Then I heard a familiar voice.

“Alex!”

I barely had time to turn before my mother came running toward me.

“Mum—”

She threw her arms around me.

I laughed as I caught her, holding her tightly while she squeezed me like she was afraid I would disappear again.

“My baby,” she murmured into my shoulder.

“I’m not a baby anymore, Mom.”

“You will always be my baby.” She pulled back, cupping my cheek to ensure I was real.

“You’ve gotten thinner. You don’t eat.”

“I eat, Mum.”

“Not enough.”

“I do, I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously before hugging me again. I smiled into her shoulder. I’ve missed her so much.

When she finally released me, I noticed the people gathered behind her.

The household staff and old family friends were smiling. Some faces I still remember, and some I don’t.

The palace felt alive. Beautiful flowers filled the hall, and the dining table was loaded with dishes I hadn't tasted in a decade.

“Did you do all this?” I asked.

She smiled gently. “You’ve been away for ten years. Did you think we wouldn’t throw you a small welcome party?”

My father waited in the smaller dining room. He looked thinner than I remembered, and his face was paler. And there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him. But his gaze was still sharp.

“There he is,” he said, setting down his fork. I walked over and hugged him. He held me a moment before patting my back.

“Good to have you home, son.”

“Good to be home, Dad.”

We sat down to dinner. For the first hour, it almost felt normal.

My mother asked about New York, my company and the people I’d left behind. She laughed at some of my stories and complained about how rarely I called.

My father mostly listened. Then, the true reason why I was asked to come home was about to be revealed. He then put down his fork and cleared his throat.

“The doctors want me to slow down.” The room fell quiet.

“They say my heart isn’t what it used to be.”

My mother’s hand immediately found his. My father looked at me. “And I don’t intend to spend whatever time I have left arguing with my only son about a wife he refuses to choose.”

There it was. The real reason I was home. I leaned back in my chair.

“Then don’t argue.” His eyebrow lifted. “Trust me instead.”

My mother squeezed his hand. “Edward, let him breathe. He’s barely been home for a few hours.”

“I have let him breathe for thirty-one years, Eleanor.”

There was no anger in his voice, only exhaustion.

“I trusted him when he chose New York over Kingswell. I trusted him to build his own life. But the Council will not wait forever.”

His eyes settled on me. “And neither, will I.”

My chest tightened. He continued. “Give me a name by the end of the season, Alex.”

I said nothing.

“A bride,” he added. “A wedding date and a coronation to follow.”

I let out a slow breath. “I’ll give you a bride.” My mother looked at me. “But I’ll find her myself.” My father studied me.

“I won’t marry a stranger just because the Council wants a queen beside me. If I’m going to wear that crown, I want someone beside me whom I actually love.”

Silence filled the room. Then my mother asked quietly, “Is it still the same dream, Alex?”

I looked at her. She didn’t need to explain. My jaw tightened.

“Yes.”

My father sighed. “Still?”

“Four years now.” I added, looking at their faces to know their expression. He exchanged a tired look with my mother.

“Alex, a dream is not a woman.”

“I know.”

“You cannot build a future around someone who may not even exist.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table.

“But I know what I feel. And I’m not going to stop looking because the Council thinks I’m running out of time.”

My mother watched me carefully. “There is no one yet,” I admitted. “But there will be.” My father gave a tired laugh.

“Time.” He picked up his glass. “That is the one thing I seem to have less and less of.” Then his hand froze. His fingers slowly moved toward his chest. The color drained from his face.

“Edward!” My mother screamed.

I froze.