Though she’d never say it out loud, no one could promise them he’d recover. It was his heart.

“All we can do is move forward,” her mother said.

A knock on the door jerked them apart, but it was only her mother’s press secretary. “Pardon me, Madam, but we’re ready to go.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Her mother cupped Rosalina and her sister’s elbows and practically hustled them back into the conference room. “We have a plan,” she said in a low voice. “And I’m going to need you both to follow along with no resistance. Do you understand?”

The image struck of her father, the monitors, his gray pallor…his utter exhaustion. “Of course.”

When they reached the staff, the press secretary turned to her mother. “He’s here. Are we ready?”

Dread kicked in. Ready for what?

“Yes,” her mother said.

And then everyone turned to watch Marcel walk into the room. His gaze immediately found Rosalina’s, and he gave her a look that said, I know you don’t like this, but…it’s happening.

“What’s going on?” In the back of her mind, the truth blinked like a neon bar sign, but Rosalina blocked it, refusing to acknowledge it.

Because…Brodie.

Calamity.

Marcel…this isn’t the life I want.

In her mind, she screamed so loudly, she couldn’t believe no one covered their ears. Around her, everyone moved with purpose. Some talking on phones, others exchanging documents.

She was going to have to marry him. The douchenozzle.

She had no choice.

Her mother’s press secretary stepped forward, ushering her ex over. “The camera crew’s setting up at the castle right now. I need both of you to change…” She took in Rosalina from head to toe. “I’ll find a stylist who can meet you there right away. We’ll need to take care of hair and make-up before we go live.”

“What are we announcing?” she asked.

“Our engagement party,” Marcel said. “It’ll be held on the castle grounds.”

“This Saturday.” Her mother gave her a firm look. Don’t argue. “And we’re moving up the wedding to December twenty-seventh.”

All it took was that flash of her father lying in a hospital bed to shut down any protests.

She couldn’t even contemplate marrying Marcel, but she’d resisted enough. She would go along with anything they asked of her, just to keep her father healthy.

“Please go to the castle right away and prepare for the press conference,” her mother said.

But Rosalina’s legs felt sluggish, and her brain wasn’t connecting with her limbs.

Her mother and Marcel exchanged a look. He nodded and set a hand on her lower back, leading her out of the room. “Let’s go.” Harrison and Gustav followed.