Page 6 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

CLARY

D espite everything that’s been happening lately, I have an incurable sense of optimism that today will be a good day.

Ana and I are at Crestview Park, the air cool as we walk the winding trail. The sun peeks through the gaps in the trees, casting dappled shadows across our path. The two of us maintain a steady but unhurried pace, enjoying the early morning silence.

Crestview is the biggest park in the city, situated smack-dab in the middle of downtown. Though it’s surrounded on all sides by city streets, inside, the noise barely penetrates, creating a quiet oasis amid the bustling metropolis.

Pulling my jacket tighter around myself, I rub my arms absentmindedly. “Thanks for coming with me,” I murmur.

“I’m glad to find an activity that isn’t twisting myself up into a pretzel,” Ana jokes. “It’s nice here.”

We continue to walk in silence for a few more minutes before I find my voice, the lingering hurt from the day before spilling out.

“I don’t understand my boss,” I mutter, my voice tight. “I’ve been with him for three years now, and I still feel like he doesn’t take me seriously. I ask him for more responsibility and he brushes me off. I step back on taking care of things outside of my job description and I get yelled at.”

Ana glances over at me, her eyes full of understanding. “That sucks,” she comments, reaching up to adjust her ponytail. “My dad does the same thing to me. No matter how much I try to prove myself, he still treats me like I’m just a fancy ornament in his office.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, grateful to find out that someone else understands my dilemma. “That sucks too,” I say. Ana’s relationship with her dad sounds complicated. I’m glad my father was always supportive when he was alive. “Have you tried telling him how it makes you feel?”

Ana smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. In her eyes, I see a hint of sadness and frustration. “I can’t talk to him like that,” she laments. “He wouldn’t listen.”

“I get it. It feels like I’m stuck in this loop where no matter what I do, it’s never enough for him,” I say, frustration making my voice rise a little.

“I feel like I’m drowning, Ana. No matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.

I swear, if I could just get one thing right, maybe he’d finally see me. But nothing works.”

Ana nods in empathy, her eyes thoughtful. “It’s exhausting, always feeling like you’re not enough, huh?”

I sigh. “It really is. Like you could be in the middle of the room, screaming, and they’d just ignore you.”

Ana’s gaze meets mine. “Or worse. They’d yell at you for causing a scene.”

“That’s exactly it,” I say, frustration tinging the edges of my voice. “You do everything you can to make them see you, but nothing works. Sometimes I just want to…” I pause, searching for the words. “I just want to kick him!”

I shake my head, forcing those thoughts aside. “Sorry,” I murmur, glancing over at Ana. “I didn’t mean to make this all about me.”

Ana smiles softly, her gaze meeting mine. “Don’t apologize,” she says, voice gentle. “I get it. Sometimes, it’s just nice to have someone listen.”

Ana falls quiet for a few minutes but when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, almost hesitant.

“I’ve been having some issues too,” she admits. “With my boyfriend. Things haven’t been great lately.”

I slow my pace to match hers, realizing I’d been walking faster, lost in my thoughts. “What kind of issues?” I ask. “Is everything okay? He’s not hurting you, is he?”

Ana chuckles. “Nothing like that. He’s a good guy, but he’s just… kind of shitty at listening. I don’t think he takes me seriously, and it’s starting to wear on me. I’ve tried talking to him about it but it’s like… he doesn’t really ‘get’ it.”

My heart aches for her. Ana is always so kind and willing to lend a listening ear. It must hurt having a partner who isn’t willing to reciprocate.

“Has he always been like that?” I ask, trying not to sound too intrusive but not able to hide the concern in my voice.

Ana hesitates, then nods. “Yeah, but it’s been worse lately. It’s like he gets distracted, or it’s just not a priority for him. He’s not doing it on purpose, but I don’t think he even notices. I’ve tried to tell him, but then nothing changes. I can’t keep doing this.”

“You deserve someone who sees you, Ana,” I say, a fierce edge to my tone. “Who sees you.”

She looks at me, offering a small smile. “Thanks, Clary. I don’t know. I guess I keep telling myself it’s just a phase. Maybe it’ll get better.”

“Don’t just settle,” I say, my voice firm but gentle. “You shouldn’t have to keep adjusting for someone else. You matter too.”

Ana’s expression softens, and for a second, she looks lighter, like maybe she’s just been waiting for someone to say that. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Make him listen,” I say, glancing over at her. “You need to sit him down and make him hear you. Don’t give him an ultimatum, but make him understand that if he continues this way, you’re out.”

“I think you’re right,” she says, a glint in her eyes. “I will do that.”

I admire Ana. She’s brave. She’s facing her problems head-on, even if she’s still figuring things out. “You should stand up to your boss, too,” she advises. “Make him see that you won’t be treated like dirt, that you need more respect from him. Maybe then he’ll take you seriously.”

My steps falter as I chuckle weakly, the notion of standing up to Rory sending a shiver down my spine.

I laugh nervously, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“He’s not that kind of boss,” I say, shaking my head.

“Standing up to him… it’s not that simple.

I could lose my job, Ana. I need this job, and I can’t afford to rock the boat. ”

I bite my lip, feeling the weight of the words settle in. No matter how much I want to break free, I’m stuck. I’m caught in this loop until I can pay back my stepmother.

The two of us finish our walk and head back to the parking lot. Ana waves goodbye as she gets into a large black SUV.

I head to the bus stop and take the next bus back to my building to get ready for work.

The sun is high in the sky now, and I feel refreshed after our walk and our long conversation. Despite my hesitance to stand up to Rory, it felt good to get everything off my chest. The optimistic spark burns a little brighter.

Once inside, I kick off my sneakers and head upstairs. It’s quiet, a rare relief, and I start selecting an outfit, hoping I won’t have to see Kate today.

Just as I pull on my long, lavender pencil skirt, I hear heels clacking on the steps outside my room and the door opens up. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Clary,” she says, a smug look on her face. “I need you to make sure this place is spotless before I get home tonight. I’m entertaining guests, and I don’t want to see a single thing out of place.” Her words hang in the air like a command.

I swallow the sigh that threatens to burst forth and give her a small smile. “Yes, Kate.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, inspecting me as if she’s searching for any sign of resistance, but she doesn’t find it. Satisfied, she turns on her heel and heads out, her footsteps fading as the door closes behind her.

The moment the sound of her heels disappears, the optimism I’d been carrying like a balloon starts to deflate, a slow, quiet unraveling I can’t stop.

I button up my bishop-sleeve blouse, give myself a once-over, and head downstairs to slip on my heels, the familiar tightness grounding me.

But it doesn’t stop the restless unease curling in my stomach.

I should be grateful. I have a job, a place to live. But every day feels like treading water, the shore slipping further and further from sight.

And now, with my pregnancy lingering at the edges of my mind, it’s like I’m sinking even faster.

How am I supposed to do this? How do I pay off Kate while juggling a baby?

How do I survive under Rory’s watchful, merciless gaze?

At twenty-six, I should have the answers, but all I have are endless questions.

When does that mythical age- related wisdom kick in?

How can I possibly bring a child into a world like Rory’s?

And how am I supposed to survive it myself?

By the time I reach work, I feel like I’ve already lost. The tension from yesterday still lingers, thick in the air like a storm waiting to break. I see it in the stiffness of Rory’s posture, in the way his gaze flickers to me, sharp and unreadable. It’s suffocating.

All I want is to get through the day and crawl into bed, disappearing beneath the blankets. I wanted to believe today held promise, but once again, I’ve been proven wrong.

Exhaling slowly, I force myself forward, but my feet feel like lead, every step a slog. My own thoughts chant in my head, relentless and damning.

I’m failing. I’m drowning. And there’s no one coming to save me.

As I sit down at my desk, I keep my head down. Focus on work , I tell myself. Stop letting everything get to you.

Still, a restless energy hums beneath the surface. My foot bounces under my desk. My fingers tighten their grip around my pen.

Every sharp tap of the keyboard, every distant murmur of conversation grates on my already raw nerves.

Rory’s gaze sharpens, tracking my every step, his eagle eyes watching me as I move about the office, cleaning and refilling the coffee pot, making copies, sorting mail, until I feel the tension coiled so tightly inside that I might just explode.

Finally, he comes out of his office and leans against my desk. “You’re in a mood,” he says flatly. His eyes flick over me, assessing. “What’s wrong?”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “What’s wrong?” I repeat, shaking my head. “Does it matter?”

His expression doesn’t change. “If I asked, it probably does.”

The frustration and hurt that’ve been simmering all morning boil over. “Right,” I snap, pushing away from my desk. “Because you care so much , don’t you? You give a shit about something other than work and what benefits you .”

Rory’s jaw ticks, his gaze darkening, but I don’t give him the chance to respond.

“You know what? Forget it. I’m taking a long lunch.”

I don’t wait for his permission. I don’t care if I have it. I grab my bag and storm toward the door, ignoring the way his stare burns into my back.

Let him watch. Let that man stew in whatever half-hearted concern he’s suddenly decided to show. It’s not like I owe him anything. I sure as hell don’t owe him an explanation.

As I burst out into the sun-drenched streets below our office, something unfurls inside my chest, like a weight finally melting away. It felt good to stand up to Rory for once, to point out his hypocrisy and mercurial attitudes.

But as I weave through the crowded sidewalk, the weight of what I just did settles in. Rory isn’t the kind of man who lets things slide. And I just threw gasoline on a fire.

I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get back, and I’m nervous to find out.