Twisted Kingdom: Royal Elite Book Three

by Kent, Rina

  For now.

  I face Jonathan, expecting him to be seething about Ethan’s sudden appearance.

  My father likes to use the element of surprise, but he sure as fuck doesn’t like to be its victim. Ethan’s rise from the dead has shuffled all of his cards and ruined the plan he’s been concocting for ten years.

  A sadistic smirk sits on his lips. He flops on the sofa and forms a church steeple at his chin with his fingers. I can only imagine the number of fucked up scenarios running rampant in his mind.

  Queens approaches me with careful steps as if she’s walking through a minefield. “I didn’t want to come here, but —”

  I hold up a hand, shutting her the fuck up. “Leave.”

  Her voice and face are the last things I need in my immediate vicinity right now.

  “You deserve it, by the way,” she whispers so I’m the only one who hears. “This is what happens when you fuck people over. You get fucked over in return.”

  I give her my best ‘do you have a death wish’ glare in response.

  She lifts a shoulder and huffs as she announces, “I’m leaving.”

  Jonathan barely acknowledges her, still lost in his own head.

  We’re the same that way: when there’s a target to eliminate, we tune out the outside world and get lost in our internal chaos.

  He’s probably counting his options and coming up with a plan to destroy Ethan. Quick wit and the ability to make snap decisions under stress are the reasons why Jonathan is what he is today.

  When other people freak, Jonathan is focused on finding efficient solutions. If he falls, he doesn’t dwell on the smash, he dwells on how to never fall again.

  “You really didn’t know he’s alive?” I ask.

  The smirk still tilts his lips. “If I did, I wouldn’t have gone after his daughter. Interesting. Maybe he kept in hiding to see how I would’ve handled the existence of his only heir.”

  I wouldn’t be surprised.

  But unlike Jonathan, Ethan is affectionate towards Elsa. He wouldn’t erase himself from her life and make her believe he’s dead just for a game with Jonathan.

  Besides, Ethan is a businessman. He wouldn’t have willingly left his empire for ten years without a reason.

  I shove a hand in my pocket. “Ethan won’t waste time and will attack straightaway.”

  “Then we attack first.” He stands and buttons his jacket. “Call Levi. We have a war to plot.”

  3

  Elsa

  They say one second is all it takes for everything to be flipped upside down.

  I had many seconds like those in my life.

  When I erased my memories.

  When I met Aiden for the first time in RES.

  When I almost drowned in the pool.

  When I recalled some of my dark, bloody past.

  However, the second I set eyes on my supposedly dead father is, without a doubt, the highlight of all.

  Since he walked through the door, all I could do was stare at him. I even stopped myself from blinking, too afraid he’ll disappear into thin air the moment I close my eyes.

  Dad, Knox, and I ride in the back of a car. I haven’t paid attention to what type of car it is, but it must be luxurious considering the high-quality caramel leather seats. There’s even a driver who’s separated from us by a window.

  Knox’s headphones rest around his neck as he sits beside my dad without a care in the world. He smiles like an idiot while scrolling through his phone.

  Please tell me he’s not going through memes right now.

  I’m over here, opposite them, my frozen hands tucked between my legs. Strands of my wet hair and clothes stick to my skin and a shiver shoots from my scalp to my toes despite the heat in the car.

  None of it matters.

  All my attention zeroes on the man in front of me.

  Dad.

  My dad is alive.

  In the nightmare I had this morning, he was drowning in a pool of his own blood, shouting at me to run.

  How can he be here now?

  He’s watching me with warmth glinting in his eyes especially tailored for me.

  Hazy memories filter back in.

  Back then, Dad used to be stern and a control freak. The staff and Daddy’s friends who wore black — whom I now recognise as bodyguards — trembled at the sight of him. He was the type of man who commanded any room he stood in.

  Ethan Steel — the emperor of Steel’s fortune. A ruthless businessman and an unforgiving enemy.

  My father.

  When I was younger, I saw him from a different perspective than everyone else. To me, he wasn’t the merciless, heartless man everyone feared and cowered away from. He was Daddy.

  Just Daddy.

  He was the type of father who wouldn’t just read me bedtime stories, but he’d also perform them for me. He tickled me until I broke into giggles.

  He took me on long runs in the rain.

  He saved me from the monsters in the lake.

  Daddy never frowned when he looked at me. When he was having a bad day, it’d take a glance at me and a smile would break on his face.

  “Are you comfortable, princess?” he asks with a low, yet warm voice.

  Princess.

  Back then, I was his princess. His favourite. His legacy. His masterpiece.

  A lump lodges deep in my throat. I can’t speak even if I want to, so I nod.

  For long minutes, silence is the only language in the car.

  I watch the lines on Dad’s face. He has a sharp jaw and high cheekbones that give him an untraditional type of masculine beauty. From afar, we look nothing alike, but up close, I share the thickness of his lashes and the shape of his eyes — mine are just a bit bigger.

  He places his elbow on the edge of the car seat and leans on it as he watches me. We’re like two injured animals that don’t know how to accept offered help.

  Or maybe I’m the only one who feels that way. After all, Dad knew exactly where to find me.

  “I understand this can seem too much.” Dad’s posh accent fills the car.

  Can seem too much?

  Is he kidding? He just returned from the dead. Surely, there are some other words he could use.

  “I told you she’s not ready.” Knox doesn’t avert his attention from his phone.

  “That’s up to me to decide,” Ethan tells him.

  Knox lifts a shoulder. “Just saying, Dad.”

  Dad?

  My gaze snaps to Knox. Did he just call my dad his dad?

  He’s about my age, when the hell did Dad have him? Is he from another woman?

  “Are you…” I clear my throat. “Are you my brother?”

  Knox lifts his gaze from his phone and winks. “Foster brother, babe.”

  Oh. Okay.

  He does bear some resemblance to Eli. Is that why Dad took him in?

  Although I doubt Dad would take in anyone just for that; he doesn’t like anyone to get into his familial bubble. Now that I think about it, Dad’s concern for privacy came before all else. That’s why he kept us away from civilisation.

  However, all of this is only a speculation based on what I remember about Dad. It’s been ten years, he could’ve changed into an entirely different person.

  “I’m hurt you don’t remember me.” Knox pouts like a child who’s been deprived of his favourite toy.

  “Remember you?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You ought to remember me after —”

  “Knox.” The warning in Dad’s tone is loud and clear.

  Knox shrugs and goes back to scrolling through his phone.

  Okay. That’s weird.

  Super weird.

  I meet Dad’s brown eyes. They’re so wise and deep, you could get lost in there and never find a way out. He must use his penetrating gaze as an intimidation method during business meetings.

  “You’ve been raising Knox all this time?” I try not to sound bitter, but I’m not sure I succeeded.

  Da
d left me for ten years. All this time, I thought he was dead and buried somewhere I would never find while he was actually alive and well. Hell, he’s been raising another child while his only daughter lived with relatives.

  “Nah, not really. We raised ourselves,” Knox says.

  “We?”

  He smirks. “There’s another one.”

  “Another one?” I meant to shout, but my vocal cords constrict so the only thing that comes out is a choked murmur.

  “Shut up for a second, Knox.” Dad sounds both exasperated and resigned.

  “Whatever.”

  Dad focuses back on me. He removes his jacket, and before I can react, he wraps it around my shoulders.

  My fingers dig into the expensive material as he settles back into his seat.

  It smells like cloves and cinnamon. It smells like Dad.

  “You’re shaking.” He taps the wall between us and the driver. “Turn on the heat, Joseph.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I’m not shaking because of the cold, but I don’t say that.

  My mind crowds with so many questions and theories, but I struggle to form words. My head keeps flashing back to the vision of blood while Dad lay in it. This is how it feels like to be shackled by the past. It’s always there, wrapping wires around your neck, threatening to chop it off.

  “How much do you remember?” Dad asks.

  “Not everything.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

  “Told you,” Knox says.

  Dad shoots him a glare before he focuses back on me. “Do you remember the night of the fire?”

  I shake my head once.

  A mixture of disappointment and relief covers his features. “I see.”

  “I dreamt about blood, though. You… You were shot and covered in blood, Dad. How… How did you… H-how…”

  “Hey.” He slides to the edge of his seat and takes my hand in his bigger, warmer one. “Breathe, princess.”

  “You died!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I thought you were dead for the past ten years. Why did you show up now? Why not before? Why, Daddy? Why?”

  “Do you think I would’ve left my princess alone if I had a choice?”

  I stare at him through wet lashes. “W-What happened?”

  “I was shot, and I’ve been in a coma since. I only regained consciousness a year ago. If it were up to me, I would’ve found you the moment I woke, but I didn’t want you to see me in that state.”

  “True that.” Knox counts on his fingers. “He had to go through physical therapy and mental therapy and a whole bunch of other therapies that drove me bonkers.”

  I watch Dad closely. Even though he appears fine now, that doesn’t mean he has been fine all along.

  Dad was in a coma for nine years.

  I read once that coma patients suffer immensely through rehabilitation and struggle to get back to normal.

  Is there a rock I can hide under?

  I was a little brat about the fact that he disappeared when I didn’t know the entire story.

  “I kept an eye on you,” Dad says. “I just didn’t show myself.”

  I gasp. “The black Mercedes.”

  He nods. “And Knox.”

  The latter waves two fingers my way. “Always at your service, my lady.”

  Pieces start falling into place. Since Knox showed up in my life, he has always been near even when I didn’t need him to.

  “You owe me, remember?” Knox winks.

  I nod.

  He taps the bruise at the side of his mouth. “And your green-haired friend owes me for this.”

  “Kim?”

  “That Xander bloke did this.” He leans in to whisper. “Your Aiden watched, by the way, then he drove off into the sunset as if he saw nothing.”

  My lips part.

  Truth is, I’m not surprised Aiden was involved. I suspected he had something to do with it. However, I am surprised Xander indulged in violence. He has never shown violent behaviour.

  Except for that time at the cafeteria.

  “He’s not her Aiden,” Dad deadpans. “He’s Aiden King, son of Jonathan King, who ruined our lives.”

  I swallow, and it’s not only because of the reminder of a feud between our families.

  Dad is right.

  He’s not my Aiden.

  Here’s the thing, Steel, you have no future with Aiden because he’s already engaged to Silver.

  Jonathan’s dispassionate words scratch at my defective heart, ripping it open.

  Silver was right all along — he never belonged to me.

  He reduced me to playing the most loathsome, despicable role: the other woman.

  Chaotic feelings claw at my chest, but I choose to tune them out.

  I refuse to be dragged into that hell. Not now.

  I focus on my dad. “Are you okay now?”

  “I am.”

  “Will there be side effects of the coma?”

  “According to my physician, I’m stable.”

  “But he needs to do regular checkups,” Knox chimes in. “Sort of like you.”

  Tears well in my eyes at the reminder. Just like me, Dad was shot that day.

  We were both victims.

  Or were we really victims?

  Everything is blurry and without any solution in sight.

  There’s one thing I’m sure about - Dad is here. He’s not dead. He kept his promise to not leave me as Eli did.

  He came back for me.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, princess?”

  “C-can I hug you?”

  The corners of his eyes soften, and without hesitation, he opens his arms.

  I dive straight in and bury my face in his chest. Dad’s arms wrap around me in a warm, soothing hug. The tears I fought since I saw him today stream down my cheeks. “You’re… Y-you’re back.”

  “I promised you I would never leave you. I’m sorry I’m late, princess.”

  I shake my head frantically. “You’re back.”

  For what seems like forever, I continue to cry against his chest. My fingers dig into his shirt as if I’m back to being that little girl.

  Daddy’s little girl.

  “I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

  I hiccough into his chest, my breaths coming in and out in a frenzy.

  “We’re here!” Knox shouts and then murmurs. “Thank God.”

  “Are you ready to go inside our house?” Dad strokes the hair away from my face.

  I pull my head from Dad’s chest and nod, but even then, a riot starts at the bottom of my stomach.

  Am I ready to go into the house where I lost my childhood?

  Only one way to find out.

  4

  Elsa

  Home.

  Such a strange word.

  Here I am again. In Birmingham. At home.

  Knox has already hopped out of the car as if his arse was on fire.

  The distance from the front gate to the mansion is long. A stylish garden extends as far as the sight goes, and it’s filled with trees cut into different geometrical shapes.

  A tremor shoots through my limbs as Dad and I stand in front of the mansion’s grand gate.

  Two lion statues decorate the entrance, just like in my fragmented memories.

  I don’t think I ever realised just how big our mansion was when I was younger. I remember the wires, the private lake, and the long runs Dad and I took within the perimeters of our property.

  Our house is larger than the King’s mansion. Perhaps it’s because they’re in London while we’re far away from the city, in Birmingham.

  The cloudy sky casts a gloomy shroud over the two towers standing tall on the eastern side.

  A shudder runs through me at the sight, clawing at my ribcage like a prisoner needing release. There’s something about those towers, but what?

  “Welcome home, princess.”

  I rip my gaze from the architectural masterpiece to stare at my father. He watches
me with pride and accomplishment like he wanted to bring me back here all along.

  “I… I thought the whole house was burned down in the fire.”

  “It was.” Nostalgia covers his gaze before it soon disappears. “It wasn’t easy, but we renovated it to make it look like before.”

  “I see.”

  It’s all too… surreal.

  If it becomes red and foggy right now, I would know for sure it’s a dream. Maybe I’m still in Dr Khan’s office, reliving the memory of my first meeting with Aiden.

  Maybe this morning never happened. Maybe Aiden isn’t engaged to Silver.

  I inwardly shake my head. I won’t think about him. I won’t think about him...

  Dad takes my hand and interlaces it with his arm. “Let’s go inside. You must be tired.”

  My feet move of their own volition as we step into the foyer.

  Marble.

  That’s the first thought that jumps to mind. Marble flooring, marble stairs, and even a marble lion statue.

  Wait. Is that a thing?

  A middle-aged man — who resembles Robert De Niro — and two women dressed in maids outfits bow upon our entry.

  I nod back awkwardly. It’s so weird to have people bow like we’re royalty. Though, from what I’ve learnt about Steel Corporation, Dad might as well be considered nobility in Birmingham.

  He doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by the staff. He acknowledges them and moves along.

  I’m like a lost orphan walking by his side. With my semi-wet clothes and dishevelled hair, I also look the part.

  Dad and I stride into the enormous lounge area with its vaulted, golden ceilings and dazzling light. Two large lion statues decorate the sweeping marble stairs. Two tall Chinese warriors paintings stand on either side of the stairs in perfect symmetry.

  Now I know where my love for old Chinese war books and philosophers comes from.

  Several French windows are strategically lined throughout the lounge area, allowing a peek into the garden.

  It’s exactly like in my vision.

  Maybe this is a vision, too. Maybe I’m hallucinating, and my father isn’t alive.