Page 176 of Lethal King

“But no one believed you. Not without evidence.”

“I had to tell my father the evidence burned down in a warehouse fire.”

“You set that warehouse fire,” Rozalia smirks. “To cover your tracks.”

“It didn’t work.”

“No, and it became your biggest failure. Your greatest shame. Prince of the underworld, future king, Rian Kilpatrick, exiled to the west coast for killing a handful of innocent men. I still remember the chatter in the underworld.”

“It threw a wrench in your plans,” I remind her, remembering how I’d helped my cousins out west thwart Drago and Gabriel’s attempted coup.

“Gabriel’s plans,” Rozalia corrects me. “He was the one who was obsessed with destroying your uncle's west coast empire—well, him and Drago. I could have cared less.”

“Do you have evidence?” I ask, my voice filled with far more desperation than intended.

“I don’t, but Drago might.”

Fuck. With evidence, I could clear my name. I could regain the respect I lost through my own foolish actions. I could show the world I wasn’t so wrong, after all.

My heart drops.

But so much more has happened since my return from that shameful exile. The embarrassment of my coronation, for one. My reputation won’t be so easy to salvage.

And Rozalia is partly to blame.

But so is someone else.

“Where is Drago?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

Slowly, the mountain returns to my shoulders. There is no escaping from my past. The best I can do is try to redeem myself.

“I knew I was right…” I mutter. But there’s no redemption in those words, just a heavy weight that sinks me down into my seat.

No one believed in me.

Rozalia must sense my defeat, because she offers me some sympathy, even if it is coated in fake sweetness.

“Aw, cheer up, buttercup,” she pouts. “You should be happy, you were right.”

“It doesn’t matter how right I was,” I tell her. “I fucked up, and my family paid the price. Instead of just sticking my father with the murder of congressman Olsen, the feds started chasing us over the killing of those union reps too. My dad forced me to the west coast not just as a punishment, but to protect me from their investigation. He took the brunt of it. Now, look where he is. On the courthouse steps, trying to defend himself in front of the entire country. I should be the one paying for my mistakes, not him…”

“Ugh, you’re being so dramatic,” Rozalia huffs. “Here, maybe this will make you feel better. I was only going to use it as a distraction—you know, since I was pretty sure you were going to ambush me—but since this is turning into some kind of weird date instead, I figure it’s the least I could do.”

I hardly even tense up as she reaches beneath the table.

“What are you—” My question is cut short when I see what Rozalia pulls out from under the table cloth.

“Good god, I keep forgetting how ugly this thing is,” she teases, pushing aside a half-empty plate to make room for my crown.

“… You brought my crown back?” I ask, completely shocked.

Pilling some empty plates on top of each other, Rozalia makes more room for my ceremonial headpiece.

It glistens under the restaurant lights as she pushes it towards me.

“I figured our little game of hide and seek has gone on for long enough,” Rozalia says, sitting back so I can bask in her gift.