Page 20 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

CLARY

T he bell above the door jingles as I step into the café, the familiar scents of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeting me.

Normally, the rich aroma would be comforting, but today, a burnt undertone lingers in the air, making my stomach churn unpleasantly.

I swallow hard, willing the nausea away as I scan the room for Ana.

She’s already at our usual table by the window, stirring sugar into her drink with a lazy motion. Her lips curve into a smile when she spots me, and she nudges the extra chair out with her foot. “Took you long enough,” she teases. “I was about to send out a search party.”

I roll my eyes, plopping down across from her. “You know, for someone so tiny, you’re awfully dramatic.”

Ana just grins, holding up her cup. “Want me to grab you one?”

I start to nod but hesitate, the thought of warm coffee suddenly turning my stomach. “I’m good,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Actually, the smell of that burned pastry up front is making me a little nauseous.” I wrinkle my nose, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips again.

Ana’s stirring slows ever so slightly. A knowing glint flickers in her hazel eyes as she takes a casual sip of her drink. “Huh,” she muses, almost to herself. “You know, my sister Sophie was weird about smells when she was pregnant.”

My spine goes rigid. My fingers curl around the edge of the table, my breath catching in my throat.

Ana sets her cup down carefully, watching me with a quiet sort of patience. “Clary,” she says gently, “is there something you want to tell me?”

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs. There’s no judgment in her tone, just an open invitation, a safe space. But still, the words feel stuck in my throat, tangled in the fear and uncertainty I haven’t let myself fully process.

She reaches across the table, resting her hand over mine. “You can tell me,” she urges softly. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”

I inhale shakily, my resolve crumbling under the weight of her understanding.

And just like that, I nod.

A shaky breath slips past my lips as I lower my gaze, blinking rapidly to fight back the sting of tears. But it’s useless. The emotions I’ve been trying to keep locked away crash over me all at once, and before I can stop myself, a tear spills down my cheek.

Ana squeezes my hand, her expression softening. “Oh, Clary…”

I shake my head quickly, swiping at my face. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I mumble, my voice thick. “It’s not like I didn’t know. I just… saying it out loud makes it feel… real.”

Ana doesn’t rush me, just waits patiently as I gather myself. After a long pause, she finally asks, “Does the father know?”

My throat tightens. I exhale slowly, weighing my words. “No,” I admit.

Ana studies me for a moment, then tilts her head slightly. “Is he… the same person you’ve been seeing?”

I hesitate, the answer sitting heavily on my tongue. I don’t confirm or deny it, and Ana seems to pick up on that because she doesn’t press. Instead, she leans back slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“So, what are you going to do?” she asks gently.

I let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t even know how to bring it up. I don’t know how he’ll react.”

Ana hums in understanding, her gaze flickering toward the window. “Then maybe you wait,” she suggests. “At least until you’re sure he can handle it.”

I glance at her, my brow furrowing slightly.

“There’s no sense in pushing for more if the other person isn’t capable of stepping up,” she continues, a slight edge creeping into her voice. “Trust me, Clary. Sometimes, it’s better to keep things to yourself than to set yourself up for disappointment.”

I don’t miss the shift in her tone—the way her frustration seems to have a deeper root. “Ana…” I murmur, watching her carefully.

She shakes her head, waving a hand as if brushing it off. “This isn’t about me,” she says, forcing a small smile. “I just don’t want you to rush into anything and end up hurt.”

I nod slowly, letting her words settle over me.

Because as much as I want to believe Rory would handle this the right way… I can’t be sure.

Not yet.

I exhale slowly, still feeling unsteady, but somehow, lighter. I don’t have all the answers—hell, I barely have any—but at least I know I’m not alone in this.

I glance at Ana, who’s watching me with quiet understanding. “Thank you,” I say softly. “For not judging me. For just… listening.”

Ana’s face softens. “Of course, Clary.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to figure everything out all at once. Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. Then, without thinking, I lean in and wrap my arms around her. She doesn’t hesitate, hugging me back just as tightly.

When we pull away, she gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Same,” I promise.

We grab our things and head for the door, stepping out into the cool evening air. As Ana waves and walks in the opposite direction, I stand there for a moment, watching her go.

I’m still conflicted. Still scared.

But at least now, I know I have someone in my corner.

And maybe for now, that’s enough.

As soon as I step through the front door, I know Kate is in one of her moods. The air is thick with tension, and I barely have time to close the door before her sharp voice cuts through the silence.

“You’ve been out all day,” she snaps from the kitchen, not even bothering to turn around. “Must be nice to waste money gallivanting around town instead of pulling your weight around here.”

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to keep moving. Engaging with her when she’s like this is pointless. “It was just coffee,” I say evenly, slipping off my shoes and heading straight for my room.

“Just coffee,” she mimics mockingly. “Every time I turn around, you’re out spending money like you have any to spare. Maybe if you actually contributed, I wouldn’t have to keep this household running all by myself.”

I grip the doorknob to my room a little too tightly, biting back the retort burning on my tongue. Instead of taking the bait, I shut the door behind me, shutting out Kate’s bitter muttering.

Exhaling, I drop my bag onto the bed and pull out my phone. A quick glance at my bank app should be enough to put my mind at ease. Last night, I moved a decent chunk of my paycheck into savings—money I’m going to need now more than ever.

I tap into my account. And then I freeze.

My balance is lower. Way lower. The savings transfer I made is gone. In its place, a large withdrawal stands out in stark red numbers.

Panic tightens my chest. I click into the transaction details, but I already know.

Kate.

She’s done this before, but never with this much.

My stomach twists as I grip the phone, my hands shaking with barely contained fury.

This was my money. My future.

And she stole it. Again.

I storm out of my room, my phone gripped tightly in my hand as I march straight for the kitchen. Kate is at the counter, scrolling through her tablet with a glass of wine in her other hand, completely unbothered.

“Where’s my money?” I demand, my voice sharp and unwavering.

She barely glances up. “What money?”

“You know what money,” I snap. “You took it. Again.”

Kate exhales in exaggerated exasperation, finally setting her tablet down to give me her full attention. “Oh, Clary, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just money. And after everything I’ve done for you, I think it’s fair that you contribute to this household.”

“Contribute?” I let out a hollow laugh. “You mean cover your spending sprees? Pay for your bills while you treat me like a burden?”

Kate’s lips curl into a smirk, her expression infuriatingly smug. “Watch your tone, young lady. You should be grateful. I kept you clothed, fed, and under my roof when I didn’t have to. And now you want to waste money chasing some silly little dream?”

My hands tighten into fists at my sides. “It’s not a silly dream. I’m going to fashion school. I already applied. I’m going to make it happen—with or without your help.”

Kate chuckles, swirling the wine in her glass as if this whole thing is amusing to her. “Sweetheart, I’ve been in the business world long enough to know when someone has what it takes to succeed.” Her eyes flick over me with calculated coldness. “And you don’t.”

The words cut, but not in the way she expects. Because I don’t believe her. Not this time.

I lift my chin, refusing to back down. “You’re wrong.” My voice doesn’t shake. “And you know what? I don’t care what you think. I’m done letting you control me.”

I expect her to get mad. To lash out, to call me ungrateful. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she takes another slow sip of wine, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she’s enjoying this.

That should make me feel triumphant. It doesn’t.

Something about it—about her—sticks with me long after I walk away.

I don’t give Kate the satisfaction of another word. I spin on my heel and storm back to my room, slamming the door behind me. My hands are shaking, my heart pounding, but I refuse to let her get under my skin. Not tonight. Not ever again.

I drop onto my bed and reach for the bottle of prenatal vitamins on my nightstand. Twisting off the cap, I shake one into my palm and swallow it dry. The exhaustion weighing on me these last few days is worse than usual, pressing heavily on my limbs, pulling at my thoughts.

I barely have the energy to set the bottle down before I sink into my pillow, my body giving in to sleep almost instantly.

Just as I’m drifting off, I hear it—a faint creak, the kind a door makes when it's opened just a little too slowly.

My brows knit together, but sleep tugs harder, wrapping around me like a heavy fog.

Probably just the house settling.

I roll over, my breaths evening out as sleep finally pulls me under.