Of Princes and Promises

by Sandhya Menon

  As the driver took the turn into the hospital entrance, the answer came to him: he had to. If he had the unfettered choice to be RC, he’d take it; of course he would. But not when that choice came with hurting the people he loved most in the world. And if rejecting Oliver and the gel meant he could protect Caterina in some fashion, at least temporarily, then he was glad. Although the knowledge that (a) Oliver and Mia were a couple and (b) the last time he’d seen Caterina, she’d been with Mia, made him very, very worried.

  Opening the door, he rushed from the car into the hospital, his heart in two places at once. He didn’t know where Caterina was, or how to help her in this moment. But maybe he could make amends with his friends while he figured it out.

  CATERINA

  Caterina smiled a little uncertainly at Mia. “Hi. Is Pietro heading back to wait for Ava and Heather?”

  Mia shook her head, still smiling in that way. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  The smile faded off Caterina’s face. Her sixth sense was telling her something wasn’t right—not right at all. “No idea about what?”

  Instead of answering, Mia walked to the small credenza between the tiny living room in which Caterina sat and the adjacent kitchen. She pulled out what looked like a thick, plain black scrapbook, brought it over, and tossed it onto the coffee table with a loud thunk. “Open it.”

  Caterina didn’t care for Mia’s tone, but she sensed now wasn’t the time to bring that up. With hesitant fingers, she picked up the book, pulled it into her lap, and opened it. There were pictures of her when she was young, maybe no more than ten years old. Caterina frowned. “Why do you have pictures of me?”

  Mia paced in front of her and the coffee table, back and forth like a lioness in a cage. “That’s not you. That’s me.”

  Confused, Caterina flipped the page. There was another picture of the same dark-haired girl—apparently Mia—with a tall woman Caterina had never seen before. The woman had familiar, bright amber eyes and a thin smile, her dark hair cut into a stylish bob. She wore a businesslike pantsuit, and was posing with a young Mia in front of a stately stucco home. “What is this?”

  “Me and my mother. Keep going. Avanti!”

  Caterina did, only because her confusion and curiosity had overtaken her sense of caution and unease. There was a see-through plastic pocket on the next page, and in it, something golden and shiny. Reaching in with her fingers, she pulled it out and set it in her palm. It took her another moment to remember exactly what it was. She looked up at Mia, a knot of ice forming in her stomach. “This—this is my bracelet. The one I lost at the Riviera two years ago.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Caterina turned back to the scrapbook, the bracelet clenched tight in one fist, and flipped another page. There were clippings and printouts on the next double-page spread, articles about Caterina, her father, or the two of them together from the last few years.

  There they were at the Met, her in a red ball gown and him in his best suit. Another one of them at the hospital in rural Alabama her father had helped open. A third of just Caterina, being interviewed about her must-haves for her winter wardrobe last year. She looked back up at Mia, her mind spinning, panic beginning to coat every muscle, her brain screaming, Run! But of course she couldn’t run. Mia was blocking the exit, and Pietro was gone.

  “What is all this?” Caterina asked in a quiet voice that she hoped sounded calm and in control. “Why do you have these things—the articles, my bracelet?”

  Mia was pacing once again, the tulle skirt of her dress trailing behind her. At Caterina’s question, she stopped and turned, crossing her arms. “Because,” she said slowly and deliberately, her eyes smoldering with a cold anger, “you’re living the life I was meant to have.”

  Caterina looked at her, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re sisters, Caterina. We share blood.”

  The bracelet slipped out of Caterina’s fist and fell to the carpeted floor, where it lay in a small, shining puddle. “What?”

  Mia continued speaking. “We have the same father—Donati LaValle.”

  “That’s… that’s not possible.” Her father would’ve told her if he had another child, for God’s sake! It was ludicrous. “My father never mentioned you, not once.”

  Mia let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, I know. I was his big mistake.” She walked forward, her eyes narrow slits. “Do you know what that was like, growing up and not knowing half the equation? Growing up with the shadow of that question mark, never fully feeling like I knew myself because I had no idea who my father was? All I knew of him was that he left when my mother got pregnant. He rejected me completely before he even knew me. And because of me, he rejected my mother, too.”

  Caterina thought about the woman with the bright amber eyes. “Your mother didn’t tell you who your father was?”

  Mia pushed a hand through her long blond hair. “Not until two years ago. Before that, all she told me was that she was ecstatic to be pregnant with me, but my father wasn’t. So she told him to leave, that she’d raise the baby on her own, and he did. She was a diplomat—independent and strong, and more than capable of taking care of herself and her child. She didn’t need him.”

  Caterina put a hand to her head. She could barely keep up with the information that Mia was slinging at her like tennis balls from a machine. “But I thought your father was a diplomat. And that your mother was a homemaker.”

  Mia laughed again. “Why? Because your friend Oliver told you so?”

  Caterina sat up straighter, the scrapbook sliding off her lap and onto the couch. “How do you know Oliver?”

  In response, Mia fished her phone out of her pocket, pressed a button, and showed the screen to Caterina. It was a picture of Mia with Oliver. He was kissing her cheek, and she was laughing. It appeared to be taken on the very couch on which Caterina was sitting. Satisfied with Caterina’s expression, Mia put the phone back into her pocket. “I moved to Rosetta last fall, after high school graduation. It wasn’t hard to find you, with your flashy cars and your glamorous parties and your frequent trips into town. Your postcard-perfect life.

  “You seemed to like Oliver’s store; I made it a point to go in there myself one day. Oliver and I began a friendship, and this winter, we began dating. It wasn’t hard to get him to feed me bits of information about you. Men are particularly foolish around beautiful women. When he told me you’d be going to the Hindman Gala, I knew my time had come to step out of the shadows.”

  “You moved here with the sole purpose of tracking me down?” Caterina asked, her mind reeling.

  “Of course I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Why do you think?” Mia asked, her voice rising. “My entire life I’d been told all I needed to know of my father was that he didn’t want me. That he was a coward who had no interest in being a father. All my life I wondered what had been so vile about me that he hadn’t even bothered to look back once he left. Do you know what torture that is for a child? To never be told the truth, to go to sleep every single night with a fistful of questions and hurts that would never be answered, never be soothed? And then I find out he already has a daughter! And nearly my age!”

  Caterina shook her head, confused. “But you said you didn’t know who your father was. So how could you know about me?” Her face cleared as pieces of the answer came to her. “You said your mother told you who he was two years ago. And all these clippings”—she gestured to the scrapbook at her side—“are from then. And the bracelet. Were you at the Riviera that summer?”

  Mia began pacing again, her face mottled red with her rage. “My mother and I were at the same restaurant as you and your friends. She had an immediate reaction to you when she saw you at your table; it was like someone had walked over her grave. Her face was white, her hands clamped around her wineglass. I begged her to tell me what the matter was. She must’ve been discombobulated enough that the truth slipped out. She said you we
re Caterina LaValle, the daughter of Donati LaValle—someone she’d known years ago. And that he was my father. She’d seen the both of you in the papers over the years. That’s how she recognized you.” Mia paused, remembering. Her voice was much quieter when she continued. “I couldn’t believe it. You were right there, in front of me. And after all these years, I finally had my answer. My father was Donati LaValle. You were evidence that he actually did want to be a father; he just didn’t want to be my father.” She glanced at Caterina. “When you went to the bathroom, your bracelet fell off your wrist. I walked by and swiped it, as a memento of sorts, since my mother refused to allow me to speak with you. But already I knew I would be researching you and your father as soon as I got home. I knew that wasn’t the last time you and I would meet. So I bided my time and I waited for the pieces to align, for my life to bring me here, to you.”

  Caterina sat there in silence, barely able to process everything. The entire evening felt surreal, as if Dali had come along, painted a vignette of her life, and then pushed her into it. “But none of this is my fault,” she said at last, her mouth feeling heavy and inflexible as stone.

  “It may not be your fault, but I grew to despise you, from the moment I saw you in that restaurant. It was so obvious all the boys were in love with you and all the girls wanted to be your best friend. You just swanned about with no regard for anyone, with eyes for no one except yourself. You were shallow, I could tell—spoiled and pretty and self-centered, like a little bird in a golden cage.” Mia was practically spitting the words now. “The research I did confirmed everything I thought. You were so sure of yourself, so absolutely confident about your place in the world. You were Caterina LaValle, daughter of a multimillionaire, attending a prestigious boarding school, dating the gorgeous Alaric Konig. Nothing ever went wrong for you. And you spent not one iota of your time worried about who you were or whether you were wanted. Everyone knew who you were and everyone wanted you. And there I was, completely invisible. Completely unacknowledged; completely rejected. Completely cut out of the LaValles’ lives. It was unfair. And I knew it was up to me to set the balance right again.”

  “What do you want?” Caterina asked, noting the slight quiver in her voice. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid Mia would see it through her dress. “Money?”

  Mia scoffed at that. “I don’t want a cent of your father’s money. Not everything is about money, and not everyone can be bought off with it. Perhaps it’s time you learn that lesson.”

  “What, then?” Caterina asked, licking her dry lips. “Why tell me all this now? What’s the point of any of this?”

  Mia walked over to the matching shabby armchair where she’d left her purse and pulled out a business card. She tossed it onto the coffee table in front of Caterina. It said Roubeeni Kaur, Glitz magazine. “I have an interview tomorrow.” Mia smiled. “A tell-all. How Caterina LaValle deceived the world with her fake, nobody boyfriend. How she concocted the pathetic, paper-thin scheme because she was desperately hoping to distract from the real story: how being dumped by her studly boyfriend, Alaric Konig, sent her into a tailspin.” Leaning forward, Mia said in a stage whisper, “She even had to be hospitalized and force-fed, the poor, wretched thing.” She straightened, examining her nails. “And from there… well, Roubeeni has contacts. I have a bigger story, don’t I? A scandal that could destroy Donati LaValle’s political career and expose him for the cheating, ignominious bastard he really is.”

  Caterina sat up straight, her eyes narrowing, her fists clenching around the photo album. “The lifestyle reporter at the Times—Bruce Amos. He mentioned that to me at the wedding reception. Were you the one who fed him that story?”

  Mia waved her hand airily. “I might’ve told Lizel, who told Alaric, who told Bruce. I wasn’t at that particular event, but word travels, doesn’t it?” She looked at Caterina again, her eyes flashing. “Your entire world is just so flimsy. You’re a paper doll, Caterina. All it takes is one storm to completely disintegrate you.” She paused, letting that sink in. “I just want you to see what I’ve done to your life before the interview has even happened. I want you to appreciate the fact that you’re truly alone now. I’ve gotten rid of your friends. I’ve gotten rid of the boy you loved. I’ve been invisible to you all my life… and now I’m all you can see. I’m all you have left to see.”

  Caterina shook her head, her body trembling, though whether it was from fear or anger, she couldn’t say. She could walk past Mia, to the door—she wasn’t being physically restrained—but every instinct in her body told her not to make any sudden moves. She was suddenly, vividly aware that she had absolutely no idea what Mia was capable of.

  Mia smirked at her shocked silence. “Take your phone out of your bag.” When Caterina didn’t immediately do it, she gestured with her hand. “Go ahead.”

  With a shaking hand, Caterina pulled the zipper back on her clutch and pulled out her phone. There were several text messages she hadn’t heard come in since she’d put her phone on silent.

  Harper: Wow. So my party’s boring, I’m needy, and my mom’s an untalented hack? And you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me bye, you had to send Mia to do your dirty work? That’s really messed up, Cat. But at least I know the truth now

  Ava: you just left without saying anything??

  Heather: we have to make our own way home now which would be fine if you had told us you didn’t want to give us a ride back. This is not cool

  Rahul: Caterina I’m sorry please come back so we can talk

  Rahul: Caterina can you please talk to me

  Rahul (one hour later): We need to talk about Oliver. There’s something weird going on

  Rahul: Caterina, Mia cannot be trusted. Where are you???

  And several more in the same vein.

  She set her phone on her lap and looked up at Mia, her blood beginning to boil and turn effervescent. “So you were responsible for Rahul breaking up with me. What exactly did you say to him?”

  Mia didn’t answer, just smiled coolly at her. “The details aren’t important. You weren’t right for each other anyway.” She put her hands on her hips. “So, tell me. What does it feel like, being so alone in the world with only your darling sister for comfort? What does it feel like, knowing that by this time tomorrow, all your dirty little secrets—real and imagined—will be in the grasp of a gossip magazine reporter? You won’t be so beloved by the entire world anymore, Caterina. You’re going to feel the sting of cold, sharp rejection on a global scale. What will you do then? How will you handle it?”

  Caterina felt her heart ice over with hatred at Mia’s words. This was what happened when you extended your hand to others in friendship or love. This was what happened when you were honest and truthful. Vulnerability papered over the truth; it put a silken blindfold over your eyes so you’d mistake wrath for warmth and obsession for friendship.

  All at once Caterina knew the moment she got out of here, she would use every resource at her father’s disposal to take Mia and Oliver down. When she was done with them, there would be nothing left. Just a smoldering pile of ashes.

  CHAPTER 22

  RAHUL

  The white-haired nurse at the desk wore scrubs with ducks and balloons on them. Her name badge read MARSHA. “Ah yes.” She typed at the computer with one finger over and over: tap-tap-tap. “Yes, I see your friend here—Leo Nguyen.” She twinkled up at Rahul. “And you’re on his visitor list, Mr. Chopra. You can head down there. Room 305.”

  Rahul hit the counter with his open palm once in relief. “Yes. Thank you.” He rushed down the hall, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose. He realized as he went that he hadn’t even asked Marsha how Leo was doing. He’d just been so anxious to get to Leo’s room and see his best friend with his own two eyes. But then he was at the door to room 305 and he pushed it open, charging in—and nearly collapsed with relief.

  Leo was sitting up in his bed, an IV in the back of his hand and several other wires atta
ched to his chest. There was a smile on his slightly swollen face, and he was in the middle of regaling Grey, Jaya, Sam, and DE—all of whom were clustered around his bed—with some story about a pigeon that had stolen his hat. They all turned at Rahul’s noisy entrance, and, after a pause, Leo’s smile grew wider. “Aha. I knew he would come visit me.”

  Rahul walked forward and gave Leo a hug, as awkward as it was with all the machines connected to him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He stepped back, feeling an ache in his throat. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

  Leo frowned. “Did you stuff the cake in my mouth? Command my throat to swell up? My airways to constrict?”

  DE raised her eyebrows. “I don’t even remember you being there, to be honest.”

  Touché. “No.” Rahul rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “But it was lychee-guava cake. I heard them say that. Lychee is botanically a fruit, but for purposes of immunology, it’s considered a tree nut. Not many people know that. I did, but I was… distracted, and I didn’t clock it like I should’ve. I should’ve warned you. I knew you were allergic.”

  Leo patted Rahul’s hand. “It’s okay. The doctors say I am going to be just fine. It was the first time I had such a serious reaction, but they are giving me an EpiPen for any future attacks. The waitress just said it was guava cake, which is why I ate it in the first place.” He shook his head morosely. “I always knew my love of sweets would come back to haunt me one day. I just didn’t know it would be one day so soon.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to be fine.” Rahul perched at the foot of the hospital bed, the bedsprings squeaking under his added weight. “But it’s not okay, what I did. How I’ve been acting.” He looked around at all his friends, whose faces were grave but not unkind. “I… kind of got lost in my own head there. It was exhilarating being this other guy people were just instantly drawn to, who just fit into every situation he was put in, who was so deserving of Caterina. You guys kept telling me I was changing, that I wasn’t the friend I needed to be. We even fought about it, but I just kept brushing you off. I thought you were being selfish. But the truth was, I wasn’t there for you and I was selfish and self-centered and it led to this.…” He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “It’s just now hitting me how much I’ve gotten away from the important things. I’m so sorry.”