The Wicked Prince

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall an Esmée.”

“Of course.” He shook his head, scoffing again.

“I’m sorry, what is it you need? Money? Does your daughter need money?”

“You think you can just throw money at us, is that it? For years you’ve been sending money to Esmée and now you claim you don’t know her name.”

“What?” I blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“This here is Oscar.” He patted the boy’s head. “Your son.”

I felt myself stumble back, though I wasn’t sure if I actually did or if it was the air rushing out of my head so quickly. I looked at the boy again. He had the same complexion as me, the same green eyes, his hair was lighter than mine, but I guessed that could be from his mother’s side. Still. I shook my head.

“There’s no way.”

“You didn’t know?” Rudolph blinked. “You’ve been sending payments.”

“Not me.” I couldn’t stop staring at the boy. He looked scared, like it was taking everything in him not to hide behind the man next to him.

“Grandpa, I want to leave now,” the boy said, tugging Rudolph’s hand.

“We talked about this.” The man looked down at the boy. “You have to be strong.”

Years of hearing those words came flooding back to me, but the only thing I could do was stare at the boy, feeling like my heart was going to rip out of my body. Was he really mine? I had no recollection of an Esmée. A few years back there had been a rumor that someone had gotten pregnant by one of us, but my brother and I had looked into it and it had been a made-up story, someone after money. I looked at the man again.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I have proof.” The man handed over a crumpled folder. I took it tentatively and looked inside. There was a birth certificate with the boy’s name—Oscar Aramis Laurent—only the mother’s name listed as a parent. Behind that, a paternity test. My heart pounded faster. Someone had taken my DNA and done this without my consent and then kept it from me. Who would do such a thing? I closed the folder and looked at the boy. He looked less than thrilled to be here. I looked at the man again.

“Why now? Why are you here?”

“My daughter, she . . . she’s in the hospital.” Rudolph’s voice wavered. “I’ve got nowhere else to take him.”

“So, you brought him here?”

“There comes a time in life where a man has to stand up and do what’s right. I was hoping you’d do that today.”

I nodded, swallowed the lump in my throat that had been sitting there during the entirety of this conversation. “What’s wrong with his mother? Is she okay?”

“She will be, God willing. She had a fall. Putting up stupid Christmas decorations.” Rudolph scowled. “It’s what happens when you refuse to let a man into your life. She hasn’t wanted to let any man get too close since you . . . you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” It was the truth. I’d never had a relationship with his daughter. A one-night stand, sure, definitely, according to the paternity test, but not more than that.

“She doesn’t trust easily.”

“Do you need money for her medical bills?”

“That would help.” Rudolph gave a nod. “What I need is for Oscar to stay here for a while. He deserves a father, don’t you think?”

I nodded, unable to look at the boy in question. I wasn’t big on crying or showing emotion, but somehow I knew if I looked at the boy I’d cry.

“But I don’t want to stay here, Poppa.”

“You have to.” Rudolph crouched down and looked Oscar in the eye. “I’ll be back to check on you in two days. You have a phone to call me whenever you want. I’ll have your mum call as soon as she can.” He stood and looked at me. “I trust you’ll take good care of him.”

“I will.” I swallowed.

I stood with Oscar at the door as his grandfather walked to his car and drove off. We waited until he was out of eyesight but remained unmoved as I cleared my throat.

“I guess you should come inside.” I stepped back into the house. “Did you bring your things?”

“I brought this.” He picked up a small suitcase. “I didn’t pack much.”

“That’s okay. We can get you whatever you need.”

He smiled slightly, but couldn’t seem to look at me or meet my eyes. I didn’t blame him. We were strangers. Deeply tied strangers. I didn’t know the first thing about children. I was planning on learning when my nephew was born in a couple of months, but as I walked through the palace with Oscar, I knew that had to change now.

“This is big.”

“It is big.” I smiled.

“Are there ghosts? My mum says there are ghosts here.”