It had been two months since they found out Veronica was having twins, his and Drake’s children. Two and a half months had passed since Millie ran off with Rowan, and no new leads. Liam felt disheartened every new day that past without finding out, knowing where his daughter was. He tried to remain positive, but he feared he’d never see her again. His biggest fear was that the only children he’d ever help raise were the ones his wife carried, and they weren’t even both his. He didn’t know how he could do what he needed to, what his wife asked—how could he be a good father to someone else’s child, knowing how they came to be? It pained him each time he looked at Veronica’s growing belly knowing they weren’t both his, and he grew to resent Drake and his blatant disregard for him and his feelings. How would he ever get past the hurt and allow Drake to be involved in the lives of both children the way Veronica desired?
Veronica was now sporting a large bump, nearly five months pregnant with twins. They still hadn’t admitted the truth of the paternity of the second child, all three terrified of what could happen if the public knew the truth. They worried they would no longer accept Veronica as their queen, or that they wouldn’t accept the child that was Liam’s as the heir. So, at least for now, they kept the true paternity of both twins a secret between the three of them.
Veronica’s guilt only grew every day, it seemed the bigger her twins got the more her guilt would consume her. She was the reason they had to keep the paternity of her twins a secret. She was the reason that they even thought the country, the citizens, might no longer accept her, and not accept their heir. She was the reason her children didn’t share the same father, she was the reason that her marriage was struggling every day just to survive. She hated to see Liam so sad and broken, the fact that she was the cause of his pain nearly allowed the guilt to swallow her whole. Daily panic attacks were a new normal for her—it terrified Liam that she was so consumed by guilt that she would panic daily. He hated that he couldn’t do anything for her. All he could do was be there for her, try his best to calm her. He stopped trying to convince her that it wasn’t her fault, he knew it didn’t help any and he didn’t want to make things worse. But he knew deep down he was also to blame.
Drake started resenting the crown even more, he knew the situation was far from ideal but keeping the fact that one of the twins was his just felt wrong. He’d become a shameful secret, not worthy of being known. His status wasn’t enough to win him the girl—it wasn’t enough to be truthful with the public about his child. He wanted to say fuck it and let the chips fall where they may, he kept quiet—for her. Even if she could never, would never be his he’d do it for her. He hated the idea of blurring the lines, parenting both twins as if he wasn’t the father of one, allowing Liam to parent them both the way he wanted—it felt like he wasn’t good enough to be the father. Not good enough, I’ll never be good enough. The thought that who he was, the title he was or wasn’t born with marked him as less than haunted him. He’d never be good enough, not compared with Liam, the king—that realization, that thought ate at him. It was like a scar that grew instead of healing, the pain growing with it. He’d never be worthy of love on his own.
Liam was sitting in his study, drinking a glass of whiskey, trying to drown his misery—he hated how things had turned out. Why Veronica felt she held all the guilt he didn’t understand—couldn’t she see that had he stood up to his father none of this would ever had happened? She never would have gotten so close to Drake, Rowan never would have been a secret. Then maybe they actually would be welcoming the heir and the spare like the country thought. This is as much my fault as it is hers. He took a long sip of the amber liquid, relishing the burn as he mentally berated himself for allowing his wife to take all the blame for their situation.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing phone, he looked at the number, he didn’t recognize the number, and was unable pinpoint where it would be from, he hesitantly answered the phone, “Hello?” He asked.
“Hello, may I please speak to Mr Rys?”
Liam knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at the title he was given, “yes, this is he.” He replied unsure if he should try to correct them.
“Mr Rys, we have some information regarding a Rowan McGregor, her mother marked you as her father.”
He felt his heart seize in his chest, Rowan, please let her be alright!, “That’s correct. Is she okay?” He asked, forcing his voice to come out steady.
“Mr Rys, I’m afraid there has been an accident—”
An accident? The words echoed in his head, pounding like an incessant beat on a drum, his hearing became fuzzy not hearing a word the voice on the other end of the line said, the phone dropped from his hand, landing on the floor with a thud. His stomach wrenched, no! She can’t be!Fear consuming him as he starting sobbing into his hands, his elbows resting on the edge of his mahogany desk. He’d only just gotten to be part of her life, and then her mother ripped her from his life once again—the world couldn’t be so cruel as to take her away from him like this could it?
“Mr Rys are you still there?”
His body shook as he heaved heavy sobs. He couldn’t believe just how wrong his life had gone, he prayed as he cried that it would only go up from here.
