James stepped into Sterling's hospital room. The sharp scent of antiseptic clung to the green curtains. Monitors blinked beside the bed.
"Sterling, how are you holding up?"
Sterling shifted against his pillows, wincing. "The glass tore through a muscle. Recovery's been hell. I'm surprised to see you."
"I had to come anyway. I've got an appointment with the radiologist."
Sterling's expression hardened. "Why? Are you sick?"
James sighed. "Persistent cough. My doctor wants to check my lungs. I'm sure it's nothing."
Sterling didn't flinch. "James, I'm worried it's serious. Could be the smoking."
"Sterling, I've been smoking cigarettes since I was fifteen. I'm too old to quit now."
Sterling reached for his glass of water, his hand trembling. "I heard you're reinstating the draft?"
James pulled up a chair. "I didn't want to. Governor Richard Scott turned Ossory against the Intermarium—twisting minds, rewriting history. Now he's declaring himself ruler."
"That's madness," Sterling said. "Doesn't he care how this fractures the alliance?"
"Richard's always been ambitious." James's gaze drifted. "I thought giving him that post would stabilize the border. I was wrong."
Sterling set down his glass with care. "Speaking of wrong—what about the accusations that someone in the royal family's been siphoning funds from the treasury?"
James blinked. "Treasury transactions are locked down. Richard is spreading rumours.""Is Lolita still handling your schedule?"
James hesitated. "Yes. Why?"
"She still has access to your secure line?"
"She coordinates diplomatic events, vendor payments, receptions…" His voice trailed off as realization crept in.
"At the diplomat's ball last month," Sterling said casually, "she wore new Auris de Jayland gowns. Said she had five."
James didn't respond.
"Fifty thousand credits each. A quarter million on fashion."
James looked away, jaw tightening. "She said they were gifts. From allies."
"Maybe." Sterling's voice dropped. "If someone wanted to undermine you, planting evidence of embezzlement would be clean. Stir up the provinces. Make it look like you're hoarding wealth while the borders burn."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the steady beeping of monitors.
"Of course," Sterling added quietly, "if the funds are actually gone… maybe it's not just politics."
James's hands clenched. "Lolita wouldn't betray me."
Sterling's gaze didn't waver. "Then explain the encrypted transfer I traced to her account. Dated the night of the ball. Routed through an Ossory bank."
James's eyes snapped to Sterling's face, his own colour draining. The monitors continued their relentless rhythm—each beep hammering against the crumbling foundation of his trust.
**************
Lolita swung the door, cutting off Ethan's knocks. A half-empty glass of red wine dangled in her hand, sangria spilling its confession into the hall. Ethan's eyes darted to it.
"You're not even twenty-one, and you're drinking—"
"In Catwerp, the legal drinking age is nineteen," she cut in coolly, taking another sip. "Not twenty-one."
"This is Intermarium," Ethan said coldly. "The law follows."
"Oh no," Lolita sighed dramatically. "Sound the trumpets. The empire crumbles before a glass of sangria."
"Laws exist for a reason," Ethan snapped.
"Yes," she said. "To let Dad pretend he's still relevant. Why are you in my doorway?"
"I asked Sterling to look into your accounts. He found suspicious activity—"
"Why the hell did you have him digging through my finances?" She sneered.
"Because the people of Ossory have lost their fate in the royal family-"
"Well, it's not because of me, is it?" She shot back, smugness curling her mouth.
"Lolita, you generate bad press. That Halloween photo—"
She tilted her head, mock-innocent. "What, the cute bunny one?"
"You were in pantyhose and a satin corset. Cleavage on full display. Hardly appropriate for public photos."
"Would it be better if I wore a nun's habit next Halloween?" Tilted her head the other way, eyes glittering with amusement.
"Holiness doesn't suit you, Lolita. Your actions damage the family's image." Ethan pressed. "Now the province of Ossory wants to separate from Intermarium."
Lolita raised an eyebrow. "Because of a fluffy tail and a glass of wine?
"Separatists are gaining ground because of scandals like yours," he said, jaw tight. "They're calling us decadent."
Drained the rest of her wine in one long swallow. "This isn't my fault. It's Dad's fault for appointing Richard Scott as their governor. He's been brainwashing them into thinking it's time to 'get with the times' by no longer choosing rulers based on bloodline. I'm going inside. My soap opera has better drama than you."
"Lolita, I'm not finished talking to you—"
"Then I hope you find someone who cares." She slammed the door, a period for the sentence he would never finish—final, sharp, and mercilessly silent.