Chapter 3 - THE KING EATS PIZZA
At seven o’clock that evening, King Adrian IV sat in a vinyl booth beneath a flickering Chicago Bulls poster and stared suspiciously at a deep-dish pizza.
Claire nearly choked laughing.
“You look terrified.”
“I am examining it.”
“It’s pizza.”
“It appears structurally unsound.”
Evelyn covered her mouth to hide a smile.
Tomas sat at the end of the booth wearing the solemn expression of a man guarding nuclear codes.
Two royal security officers occupied a table near the entrance.
Another sat beside the kitchen.
The restaurant owner had been told only that an important European diplomat wanted privacy.
Claire pulled a slice onto her plate.
Cheese stretched nearly twelve inches.
Adrian stared.
“That cannot possibly be necessary.”
“Welcome to Chicago.”
He tried it.
His eyebrows rose.
Claire grinned.
“Well?”
Adrian chewed carefully.
“Acceptable.”
“You ate half the slice.”
“Diplomacy requires sacrifice.”
For almost twenty minutes, they were normal.
Or as normal as a seventeen-year-old girl having dinner with a secret king father could possibly be.
Claire told him about school.
About college applications.
About her dream of studying constitutional law.
Adrian listened.
Not politely.
Intensely.
As if every sentence mattered.
Then Evelyn said, “She wants Georgetown.”
Claire glared.
“Mom.”
Adrian smiled.
“Excellent school.”
“I’m also applying to Northwestern.”
“Also excellent.”
“You’re not going to tell me where to go?”
“Would it help?”
“No.”
“Then why would I?”
Claire studied him.
That answer mattered more than he knew.
Eventually the conversation turned toward Valedria.
Claire had spent the afternoon secretly reading about it.
Population: 1.8 million.
Capital: Saint Aurelia.
Constitutional monarchy.
Major industries: finance, shipping, luxury tourism, maritime technology.
Adrian Laurent had become king at thirty-two after the sudden death of his father.
He had survived two assassination attempts.
He had never married.
The international press routinely called him “Europe’s Reluctant King.”
Claire had also found old photographs.
Thousands.
Adrian meeting presidents.
Adrian speaking at the United Nations.
Adrian walking beside soldiers after a terrorist attack.
Adrian kneeling beside children at a hospital.
And dozens of stories speculating why he had never chosen a queen.
None mentioned Evelyn.
None mentioned Claire.
“Do people know about me?” Claire asked.
Adrian set down his fork.
“A handful.”
“Who?”
“The prime minister. Tomas. Three members of the Privy Council. My chief of security.”
“And no one leaked it?”
“Those who knew understood the consequences.”
Claire leaned back.
“What happens if the public finds out?”
Silence.
Evelyn looked at Adrian.
Adrian answered carefully.
“You become Princess Claire Adelaide Laurent.”
Claire nearly dropped her soda.
“Princess?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That is generally how monarchy works.”
“Absolutely not.”
Adrian smiled.
“You are entitled to disagree with constitutional law.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Claire pointed at him.
“I am not wearing a tiara.”
“Most days I do not wear a crown.”
“Most days?”
“Ceremonial openings become complicated.”
Evelyn laughed.
Claire stared at both of them.
Then her expression softened.
“If I’m recognized, am I really your heir?”
Adrian’s humor vanished.
“Yes.”
“The next monarch.”
“Under current law.”
“I’m an American.”
“You hold Valedrian citizenship by birth.”
“Apparently everyone knew things about me except me.”
Adrian lowered his eyes.
“That is true.”
Claire realized he would not defend himself.
That made being angry harder.
Her phone buzzed.
She checked it.
A school group chat was exploding.
Someone had posted the video of Richard threatening her scholarship publicly.
Views had crossed fifty thousand.
Another message appeared.
BLACKWOOD BOARD CALLING EMERGENCY MEETING.
Claire showed Evelyn.
Adrian glanced at the screen.
“Why?”
“Probably because people are angry.”
Another notification.
This one was from Vanessa.
Hope you enjoyed your fake daddy visit. My father says scholarship contracts have conduct clauses. See you tomorrow.
Claire’s smile disappeared.
Adrian noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
She locked the phone.
“It’s Vanessa.”
“What did she say?”
“Forget it.”
Adrian extended his hand.
“I am your father. I believe requesting to see the threatening message is a reasonable privilege.”
Claire hesitated, then handed him the phone.
Adrian read it once.
His face showed nothing.
He returned it.
“What does her father intend?”
“I don’t know.”
Evelyn looked uneasy.
“He threatened the scholarship last night.”
Adrian leaned back.
“Can he revoke it?”
“Technically the board can review financial awards for misconduct.”
“What misconduct?”
“Disrespect toward school leadership,” Claire said bitterly.
Adrian looked toward Tomas.
“No.”
Claire pointed at him again.
“Whatever that look means, no.”
“I said nothing.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Tomas hid a smile behind his water glass.
“I’m serious. I don’t want you throwing royal money at the school.”
“I had not proposed that.”
“Or buying the school.”
“I cannot purchase an American nonprofit academy like a sandwich.”
“You looked like you were considering it.”
“Only briefly.”
“Dad.”
The word escaped before Claire could stop it.
Everyone at the table went silent.
Adrian’s entire face changed.
Claire felt heat rush into her cheeks.
“I mean—”
“No.”
His voice was almost a whisper.
“Please.”
She looked at him.
He swallowed.
“You may say it again whenever you wish.”
Claire dropped her gaze.
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears.
Tomas suddenly stood.
“I should inspect the front entrance.”
“There are three agents already inspecting it,” Adrian said.
“I should inspect their inspection.”
He walked away.
Claire laughed nervously.
The moment passed.
But something had changed.
Later, outside the restaurant, Evelyn spoke privately with Adrian while Claire waited beside the sedan.
Tomas approached her.
“You made him very happy.”
Claire stared at the street.
“I’m still angry.”
“You should be.”
She looked at him.
“You really think that?”
“I helped hide you.”
Claire stiffened.
“I carried you out of Valedria when you were six days old.”
“What?”
Tomas reached inside his coat.
He removed an old photograph.
A younger Tomas stood beside a private aircraft.
Evelyn was climbing the stairs.
In her arms was a newborn wrapped in cream-colored blankets.
Claire.
“Your father remained behind,” Tomas said. “If he disappeared with you, every intelligence service in Europe would have known you mattered.”
Claire looked at the photograph.
“He watched the plane leave?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
Tomas was quiet for a moment.
“He stood on the runway until it disappeared.”
Claire swallowed.
“He asked me whether I believed you would ever forgive him.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That children eventually become adults and judge their parents for themselves.”
Claire gave the photograph back.
“I haven’t judged him yet.”
“I know.”
A black SUV turned into the restaurant parking lot.
Tomas glanced toward it.
His posture changed instantly.
The vehicle slowed.
Its windows were heavily tinted.
The royal security agent near the door touched his earpiece.
The SUV accelerated suddenly.
It drove directly toward Claire.
Tomas moved first.
He grabbed her and threw both of them behind the sedan.
Adrian shouted.
Security officers drew weapons.
The SUV swerved at the last second, struck a parked car, and raced toward the exit.
One royal vehicle pursued.
Claire lay on the pavement beneath Tomas’s arm.
Her ears rang.
Evelyn screamed her name.
Adrian reached them and dropped to his knees.
“Claire!”
“I’m okay.”
Tomas looked toward the road.
The SUV disappeared.
Adrian’s face was no longer the face of the awkward father eating pizza.
It was the face of a king who had survived assassination attempts.
“License plate?”
“Covered,” an agent said.
“Driver?”
“Masked.”
Adrian stood.
“Lock down the apartment.”
Claire pushed herself up.
“You think that was about me?”
No one answered.
Which was an answer.
Evelyn looked terrified.
“This is exactly why we hid her.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“You came here publicly.”
“I arrived privately.”
“They found you anyway!”
Claire shouted, “Stop!”
Both parents turned.
She brushed dirt from her dress.
“I’m standing right here.”
Adrian’s expression softened.
Claire looked between them.
“No more deciding my life while I’m in the room.”
Evelyn nodded.
Adrian did too.
Claire took a shaky breath.
“Now tell me who wants me dead.”
Adrian looked toward Tomas.
Tomas reluctantly said, “We do not know.”
“But you suspect someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, an agent approached holding a small black object.
“We found this beneath the Whitmore vehicle.”
Claire frowned.
“What Whitmore vehicle?”
The agent pointed toward the car the SUV had struck.
A silver Mercedes with a Blackwood Academy parking decal.
Claire recognized it.
Vanessa drove that car to school.
The agent held up the object.
A magnetic GPS tracker.
Adrian stared at it.
Then at Claire.
Someone had been tracking Vanessa Whitmore’s car.
But why?
Claire’s phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number appeared.
ASK RICHARD WHITMORE WHAT HE DID IN MADRID.
May you like
A second message arrived.
AND ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO REALLY ORDERED YOUR DEATH.
