My Fiancé Woke Up Obsessed With My Best Friend

Chapter 4

Arthur's tiny body crashed into the champagne tower. In an instant, the pyramid of glass flutes came tumbling down. Crystal shards rained around him like jagged confetti. He stood frozen, eyes wide—then slowly collapsed. Blood streaked across his face as he hit the floor, unmoving.

A scream tore from my throat. "Arthur!"

I scrambled across the floor, dragging myself toward him, desperate to hold him.

Arthur stirred, barely lifting his head, his eyes weakly searching for mine—then his little arms fell limp, and he went still.

Lorenzo slammed his heel into my back, grinding it into my waist with cruel precision.

"All this for a bastard?" he sneered. "Still haven't learned your lesson? Don't worry. I'll make damn sure you do."

He turned to Vanessa with a cold command. "Strip her."

"She wants to seduce men? Let everyone see what kind of trash she really is."

He yanked me up by my hair, forcing me to my feet, leaving me exposed in nothing but my undergarments in front of the entire crowd.

He pinched the soft flesh at my waist, sneering. "Disgusting. And you call yourself some royal princess? I'm sick just looking at you."

Vanessa clawed at my skin, digging in with each word. "This is for your own good, Danna. Maybe now you'll learn some humility. Maybe now you'll stop acting so high and mighty."

Bruises bloomed across my arms and chest—deep purples and sickly blues. My face was swollen, on fire with pain.

But even through barely opened eyes, I could still see Arthur lying there, deathly still.

I didn't care about my shame. I didn't care about the pain. I had one thought only: save my son.

"Lorenzo," I begged, voice raw, "Arthur is Prince Charles's son. Please. Please save him!"

"If something happens to him, all of New York will pay for it!"

But instead of softening, Lorenzo's rage exploded. He grabbed a nearby chair and slammed it into my body.

"You just won't shut up, will you? Still trying to drag His Highness into your mess with that bastard kid? You filthy liar!"

The chair shattered against my leg with a sickening crack. Pain shot through me like fire. My vision blurred.

I almost blacked out. I bit down on my tongue, forcing myself to stay conscious.

Arthur wasn't moving. Aaron was sobbing, calling for me.

I dropped to my knees in front of Lorenzo and slammed my forehead against the marble floor again and again.

"It's all my fault," I cried. "I should've known better. I was naive, stupid. Please—please save him!"

He kicked me aside like trash.

"Now you're sorry? Now you're ashamed? Think groveling like a dog will fix anything?"

"I'll do anything," I pleaded. "Please… for the sake of our old friendship—just save him!"

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone.

But before he could dial, Vanessa snatched it from his hand.

"Loren," she said sweetly, "why bother? If the prince hears you helped a woman pretending her bastard is his son, he'll think you're part of the scam. He'll destroy you."

Lorenzo's expression darkened. He looked from me to Vanessa, then pulled her into his arms.

"You're right, baby. It's too risky."

Blood was still trickling from Arthur's forehead, forming a dark pool beneath him. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.

I turned and grabbed Vanessa's skirt.

"Vanessa," I begged, "hate me all you want, but Arthur's just a child. Please—please save him. I'll do anything. I'll kneel. I'll crawl—just please!"

She grinned, a wicked gleam in her eyes, and lifted my chin with two fingers.

"Now you know how to beg?"

"Where's the high-and-mighty New York princess now? Look at you. Groveling like a stray mutt. Pathetic."

I knew she wouldn't stop until she'd completely humiliated me. Charles and the mayor were off inspecting the venue—God knew when they'd be back. Every second lost could mean death for my son.

Panic surged in my chest.

I dropped flat to the ground, wagged my head like a dog, and barked. Twice.

"You're right, Mrs. Nichols," I choked out, barely able to see through my tears. "I'm a dog. A filthy, shameless bitch. Please. Please let me go."

I didn't know if it was the title Mrs. Nichols or the sight of me debasing myself that pleased her more, but Vanessa burst into delighted laughter, hiding her mouth behind her manicured hand.

"Oh wow. The proud little princess of New York is now my pet? What a treat."

Lorenzo laughed too, clearly enjoying every second.

"Vanessa, you were always meant for better. You were born noble—it was fate that placed you among the lowborn. But soon, you'll be the most powerful woman in the country."

Satisfied at last, Vanessa reached down and grabbed a broken chair leg. A jagged, rusted nail jutted out from one end.

"Danna," she said, eyes alight with malice, "cut up that pretty little face of yours. Do it now—and I'll call an ambulance for your son."

She threw the chair leg at my feet.

I stared at the rusted nail—nearly four inches long. Then looked up at the smug satisfaction on their faces.

A voice rose timidly from the crowd.

"Mr. Nichols… that's enough. If the Prince shows up and sees this… it won't end well."

Vanessa scoffed. "Mr. Schumann, you don't know what she's really like. She's a gold-digging flirt, chasing every rich man she sees. I'm doing this for her sake—so she learns to stop disgracing women."

Before I could react, she lunged forward and pressed the nail to my cheek.

Pain ripped through me. I screamed as blood poured down my face, hitting the marble in dark, steady drops.

Someone gasped.

"That's deep… her face is ruined."

But Vanessa wasn't done. Her expression twisted into something monstrous. She yanked the nail out and raised it again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the blow.

Charles… where are you? Please, save our son…

Suddenly—

BANG!

The double doors burst open with a thunderous crash.

A powerful voice cut through the hall like a blade:

"His Royal Highness, Prince Charles, has arrived!"