One of the Vanderbilts’ butlers opens the door.

“Your Highness, how can I help you?” he asks nervously, bowing.

“Is Charles home?”

“Yes, come in, please.” The butler replies. He leads me into one of the sitting rooms. “I’ll ask Mr. Vanderbilt to meet you in here.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. “Wait out here, please,” I instruct Michael and Thomas.

They both nod.

I take a seat on one of the linen couches to wait for Charles. He enters the room only a couple of minutes later. His expression is guarded. Tense.

“Hi,” I greet.

Charles smiles, but doesn’t say anything as he takes a seat on the identical couch across from me.

I take a deep breath. “Charles, I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you that I never expected this to happen. Any of it. My father’s illness. The marriage law. My time at Lincoln. I went to the States to escape things for a little while. And I fell in love. I came back, and suddenly I had to get married right away. And I couldn’t—”

Charles interrupts me. “You don’t have to explain, Vivienne. I saw the news this morning. You’re going to marry him, right?” His face is blank. Carefully so.

“I’m so sorry, Charles. I never meant to hurt you, and I truly planned to marry you—”

“It’s fine, Vivienne.”

“No, it’s not. Charles, I’m really sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry. It’s—”

“Vivienne. Our engagement is over. I get it.”

“You’re an amazing guy, Charles. Truly.”

Charles scoffs, his first hint of emotion other than indifference. “Yeah, we’ll see how many girls want the Princess’s castoffs.”

“Charles…”

“I wasn’t under any illusions you would pick me over him, Vivienne. I just didn’t think you’d be able to pick him.”

I nod once, understanding what he’s really saying. He didn’t expect Jace to choose me. To give everything up for me.

“Just go, Vivienne. Please.”

“Okay,” I whisper. There’s nothing else I can say, except, “I really am sorry, Charles.”

He doesn’t say anything as I walk out of the room back to the waiting car.

It only takes twenty minutes to drive to the airport. The plane is already sitting on the runway, waiting. I jump out of the car as soon as we pull up to the airstrip. My entourage of agents follows closely behind as I climb the stairs onto the plane.

“Welcome aboard, Your Highness.” The pilot bows as I emerge inside. “Where is your destination?”

Shit. I don’t know. “Head toward the States,” I reply. “I’ll let you know more details shortly.”

He nods and heads into the cockpit. The door is closed, and we’re airborne in minutes.

I pull out my phone. It’s childish, but I don’t want to call Jace and ask where he is. I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to say to him, but I know I don’t want it to be over the phone. That means I have to track him down some other way. I try to come up with ways to do so, and press the first name I think of.