À la folie

"Please don't do this to me I won't speak up again, I promise." My silent cries fill the room as I struggle to control them.

"Papa give her one more chance," Aurora slowly speaks up, looking at me in terror, aware of what is next.

"Aurora, my beloved," he crouches down and turns to face her, cupping her face in his hand.
"You know what happens when your sister speaks in front of the guests." He looks at her gently, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Even when Papa warns her not to."

A gasp escapes my lips and I slap my hand over my mouth. His attention is directed onto me. He gets up, and strides toward me. I stumble back, whimpering in fear.

"Please, no. Please.." I beg, blinking repeatedly to stop the tears threatening to fall as he grabs my arm and pushes me into the small, familiar dark room. I stare at him, my mind numb from all the pain.

"The previous time, it was just a day. But you made the same mistake again. Even after you were warned."

"You never obey me, Alyssa."

"And because of your fault, this time it's three days."

„Nein Papa, bitte!" I hear Aurora's cries in the background.

I watch as he shuts the door. It emits a high-pitched echo, followed by the sound of the lock clicking from the other side.

"No."

The words come out of my mouth in a silent whisper. My vision slowly returns as my whole body feels like it's on fire. A sharp pain shoots through my skull, throbbing loudly. Making it all I could hear. Cool sweat trickles down my temples, blending with the tears that blur my vision. I put my trembling hands over my mouth to stifle the sobs in a desperate attempt to regain control. My whole body trembles uncontrollably. The heat radiating from within intensifies, suffocating me as I struggle to catch my breath. My heart pounds in my chest, elevating to impossible heights as memories flood into my mind like a tsunami, dragging me deeper into the darkness I fought so hard to stay out of.

My whole body was overwhelmed by the flood of emotions consuming me whole.
„Nein." I squeeze my eyes, my voice barely a whisper. I focus on regaining control over my racing breaths. Since childhood, I had rigorously trained my mind to suppress the tears. To make sure my eyes remained as dry as they were when I was left to die in that blizzard.
But months of burying my emotions had finally taken their toll, leaving me unable to bear the pain any longer.

I tightly wrap my arms around my knees. My body is trembling uncontrollably, my breaths coming in short, painful gasps. Each breath feels like a struggle as if my body was being wracked by invisible waves of desolation. Time seems to stretch on as I endure the torment, each second passing like an eternity.

I wait, hoping for the panic attack to subside, but the pangs of torment linger, shaking me to my core. Moestie comes into view and snuggles up against my legs, offering a comforting warmth. I know I must be patient, allowing this to run its course.

I focus on my breath, striving to slow it down. It's a painful waiting game, but I know that eventually, the intensity will wane. Just as it always has.

It's a cycle.

After a long, gruelling thirty minutes, it finally subsides. The tears may have stopped, but the pain lingers. I take a moment to collect myself, feeling the weight on my chest gradually lift.
Taking a deep breath, I welcome the calm that settles after the storm.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand and look around. I find myself on the sofa in my living room.

How did I end up here?

I look at the satin dress I was in. A cold wave of realisation floods over me.
My eyes search around for my phone as I try to piece together what happened last night.
Phone on the table. I reach over and switch it on.

32 missed calls from Joshua and 2 from Azrah.

Shit.

There were spam text messages from Josh asking me where I was and if I had left early. I blink constantly. My head is throbbing with the painful hangover from last night. I slowly lift myself, the room momentarily spins and I hold onto the table.
My temples pulse with each beat of my heart as I strain to remember how I ended up here.

I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. Remnants of last night flood my mind, adding to the banging in my head.

Scott screaming at me.

David pulling me into a corner.

And—

The royal man.

My eyes widen.

I hiss in pain, massaging my temples as the pounding in my head intensifies. Memories of vodka shots flood back, followed by fragments of me ascending the grand staircase.

Then the balcony. My eyebrows are clasped together in pain as I struggle to focus on recalling the events.

Him.

He was there. We talked for a while. The memories are hazy and fragmented, a jumble of blurred images and disjointed conversations. My hand lands on the back of my head.

My hair stick.

He pulled my hair stick off.

My frustration grows as I try to spark some memories but the pressure only intensifies the pounding headache, making it difficult to think clearly.

Did he drop me back?

That's not possible.

My eyes run over so many text messages from Joshua. I decide to dial him.

He picks up after two bells.

"ALYSSA?!"

"Hi." My voice sounded like I hadn't slept in years.

"HI?! WHERE WERE YOU THIS WHOLE TIME?!" He shouts through the phone, worsening the pounding in my head. As if it wasn't already bad enough.

"Stop screaming," my groggy voice fills my ears.

"I called you so many times, you didn't pick up once! None of our calls! Were you dead?!"

"Yes, I was dead." I roll my eyes.

"Not the time for jokes, you left without a word!"

I don't remember leaving.

"Did you see me leave?" I ask, hoping he might've seen something.

"What kinda question is that?!"

"As direct as it sounds?"

"If I saw you leave, I would've stopped you, so no, I didn't." He was frustrated.

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it? Alyssa, you don't get it. I searched for you everywhere I couldn't even talk to Beatrice 'cause I was so—"

"Beatrice?"

"Seriously?!"

"What?"

"I can't do this, I'm coming over. Don't run away." He says.

"As if I c—" he cuts the call without hearing me out. I roll my eyes.

I take a chair at the dinner table. I took a long, hot shower and changed into a full-sleeved, black square-neck blouse with black cargo pants. If there's one thing I could never run out of, it's black clothing.

Elegance comes in black.

My pill boxes lie in front of me. I had to take these every day for a month. The last time I took them was two weeks ago. Maybe that's why my body feels as if it's been run over by a truck.

My mind is going insane with remnants of memories from last night. The Christmas bells outside chimed faintly inside the house. It was dimmer here in the living room. Outside the window, the hazy sky framed the bustling neighbourhood. Filled with families gathered in the park and roads, joyously celebrating the holiday.

But my mind is fixated on last night. I don't get why David was at the Christmas Eve party or why he's still in New York. Why hasn't he returned to Berlin?
Memories from the precinct three weeks ago crash into my head as I touch my now-healed cheek. I chew on my lip, wanting to push away the memory of how he had dared to raise his hand on me in front of the police officers.

It was his luck that I was restrained.

No one even dared to intervene in the interrogation room except Ethan. It all happened right before their eyes. But they didn't do a thing.

As if he somehow has them all under his control and any opposition to him would spell trouble for them.

God knows it required every ounce of self-control last night to stand unwavering before him, resisting the urge to unleash chaos.
I roughly brush my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. If David was there, means he knows Gabriel. Does that mean Gabriel knows I work at Arley&Rivens?

But given how David went out of his way to hide the fact that I'm his daughter in front of that prince, I don't think anyone knows I'm related to him.

"Luther." The name leaves my lips in a whisper.

I blink incessantly when I remember standing on The Ludwig's balcony with him. Where he told me that he and David were in a partnership or something. That, and him pulling the hair stick off my bun. I stare at Moestie trying to chew off the tablecloth as I zone out.

I remember him talking to David about Gabriel insisting him on coming to the party. I grab a scrunchie and put my damp hair into a light ponytail. I reach for the laptop on the table and power it on. My fingers quickly type 'Gabriel Reyes' into the search engine.

His Christmas Eve party in The Ludwig's Estate last night was all over the news. I scroll through the news links. One particular headline catches my attention. It was talking about how he's rumoured to be linked with mobs and criminal organisations, using The Ludwig's Estate as his secret base to exchange and carry out cartels and other criminal-associated activities. The article goes on to talk about how much of a sellout Gabriel Reyes is and how he should be arrested for his crimes and underworld organisations.

The way the article is written makes me realise how many enemies he must have.

As I scroll through it, something catches my eye. My eyes widen for a split second when I see a picture of Gabriel with the man from yesterday.

"Gabriel Reyes with Associated Collaborator Prince Luther Alexandre Grimaldi."

It was a picture of the two of them standing next to each other in suits with champagne flutes in their hands. My eyes scan him. A flash illuminated his face, making him look as pale as a ghost. He had a bright and vibrant expression on his face, his amber eyes disappearing from grinning at the camera. I blink. A timid smile unknowingly appears on my face. I quickly cough it off.

They looked quite close.

I felt an unexpected curiosity bubbling up within me, wanting to learn more about this man. I go over to the search engine and type his name, but a sudden loud bell rings out in the living room, causing me to startle. I pause, taking a deep breath as the sound echoes in my ears, reverberating in my mind. I quickly shut the laptop screen and walk up to the door.

I open it to see a furious Josh standing in the doorway with a box in his hand.

"Oh great, you're alive!" He walks inside with the gift box, keeping it on the sofa.

"What is that?" I look at him.

"Where the hell did you go last night?!" He looks at me with an infuriated expression.

"I was on the balcony."
"Couldn't you pick up your phone?!" He gives me an agitated look.

"I was too drunk I think I could barely stand."

He gives me a disgruntled look.

"Do you have any idea how many scenarios ran through my head? Why do you gotta be so unpredictable?!"

"Uh," I shut the door and walk up to him. "I'm sorry to keep you worrying since last night but you don't have to—"

"No," he shakes his head. "Don't say that."

I roll my eyes, frustrated.

"Alyssa, you can roll your eyes, or throw hands, ignore or push away whoever you want a thousand times, I don't care."

"Just not me." He shrugs, staring me down, his eyes clear of his words.

I sigh restlessly and look away, my mind still rambling on and off about Luther from last night.
And how I ended up at home.

I point my finger at him in uncertainty, "Are you sure you didn't see me leave last night?"

"What do you mean, don't you remember how you got back?"

I shake my head.

"How drunk were you?!" He gasps and nudges me hard, making me stumble and lose my balance for a moment.

"Woah, what's wrong with you?" Josh's eyebrows pull into a frown as he speaks in an alarmed tone. I sit back on the couch.
The fear of collapsing once more carries with it a looming sense of embarrassment. My eyes shoot upwards as a sense of realisation washes over me.

No.

I passed out.

IN HIS ARMS?!

I gasp audibly.

Specks of last night bombard my mind. After he took off the hair stick, I tried to get it but instead, I ended up about to fall and, he caught me. And then—

That's when I passed out.

IN HIS ARMS!

That's all I remember.

Did I open my mouth at all?

"No," my voice is a low whisper.

What if I blurted something I wasn't supposed to?

"No." I look up.

"Oh, no!" I cry out in panic and embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Josh takes a seat beside me.

I take deep breaths to calm myself. Not knowing what I might have said makes this so much worse than I thought.
I know I tend to speak rubbish when I'm drunk.

But to the point I can't even remember how I ended up here?

I cover my face with my hands and bite the inside of my cheeks.

What could I have possibly said?

A lot.

I groan and look at Josh.

"What's wrong?"

"Joshua, I have a question."
His head tilts in confusion. "What is it?"

"Have I ever, uh, let's say," I clear my throat, "said things when I was drunk?"

He gives me a hard, deadpan look.

"Who was your victim this time?"

"Just answer my question!" I say, infuriated as he starts to laugh.

"Well, Lady who doesn't-remember-what-she-rambles-on-about-when-she's-hammered, do you have a day or two?" He offers me a smug smile.

I look away from him and let out an exasperated sigh.
No, I have way too many things to deal with, I can't add one more problem to the list.
I pray I didn't reveal any secret or say shit I shouldn't have.

Some shit like how I'm related to David White.

But, even if I did, why does it matter?
It's of no harm to me. David will be the one impacted. Thinking of him makes my jaw tighten so hard, I avert my gaze. My mind should've erased all memories of him instead of the ones it dredges up when I'm drunk.
Oh, but based on how things have been going these past few months, I don't think I'm anywhere near that peace.

He unearthed haunting memories from my mind I battled hard to bury, a constant reminder of pain, resurfacing with my fury.

Very presence of him a haunting, enough to make everything so much worse than it already was.

"Are you okay?" My thoughts evaporate as I notice Josh's hand resting on my shoulder, offering me comfort. I avert my gaze and nod, shrugging his hand off.
He senses I'm not in the mood. Normally, I would continue with his silly jokes and comments, making fun of me or taunting me, but I'm too distracted right now.

From the corner of my eye, I could see his gaze lingering at me. Contemplating his words, cautious and caring. Debating on what to say, and what not to, being wary with what might throw me off the edge and what wouldn't.

I hate it.

"Here," I hear his voice. "This is for you," he brings the gift box in front of me, making me look at it.

As my eyes lock onto it, another surge of childhood memories flood and infiltrate my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. I rip them apart before they can.

"Josh, I told you before I don't like gifts," I give him a pleading look. I get up and walk around, still feeling drowsy and lightheaded.

I wish such insignificant things didn't hold so much weight on me. It's stupid.

I'm holding on to too much.

"Alright, I'm opening it for you." He walks up to me.

I watch him as he excitedly unwraps the box. Moestie bolts as she hears the rustling of the paper. Josh shoos her away with his feet.
"It's for your grumpy owner, not you."

I roll my eyes.

He reveals a medium-sized photo frame, grinning as he holds it up to show me. "Merry Christmas!"

My eyes land on the photo and a gasp escapes my mouth.

It was a picture of Josh and I at a Bike Night months ago where he had forcefully taken me. His arm wrapped tightly around my neck as we stood next to his BMW S 1000 RR among other bikers, dollar bills flying around our faces from the race he had won. I had a scowl on my face and my eyes were sunken while Josh had a wide smile covering his face, ecstatic from the victory.

"When was this taken?" I glance up at him, my eyebrows lowered in thought, my finger tracing it.

"You won't remember, you were too wasted to be aware of what was going on. You didn't even know I won until the next day bruh," he pokes my forehead. I slap his hand away.

"If you take me forcefully to places I don't like, you expect that to happen," my brows arch and I shrug my shoulders.

"Oh, stop lying. I saw how much fun you had that night. You were like a wild bear that had just escaped the zoo." He laughs as he reminisces.
My eyes squint. I glare at him.

But it was a good picture. I remember that day. I got into a small fight with Shane. With threats and man hunts against him, that was the last thing I wanted to happen. So I had left him on the street before I could say or do something I'd regret.

"You didn't like it." I hear Josh as he looks at me intently.

"No, no," I look up at him. "It's ... perfect," I blink in response.

"Then why the long face?" He pouts as his eyes go over my face.

"Really—"

"Wait, when was the last time you had something to eat?"

That explains the dizziness..

"Does the croissant from last morning count?" I glance at him with a slight grin.
He gasps, his mouth falling open as he glares at me. "Please tell me you're joking."

"And the vodka shots last night," I sheepishly add in there.

His eyebrows are bunched up together as he gives me a long, appalled look. He shakes his head in disappointment, "How are you still standing here?"

"That," I take the frame from his hands and walk to the drawer, "I don't know," I place it on the shelf next to the door.

"Let's go." He follows me and grabs the keys sitting next to the picture frame.

"Where?" My head turns to him.

"To put something in that empty stomach," he fixes his hair, looking into the mirror.

"Aren't you supposed to be home today, with your family?" I remind him.

"Yeah, I gotta be back at seven for the party, you wanna join?"

"No, enough parties for me."

I put out some snacks for Moestie and grab my pocket knife.

I step out of the house to see streets and houses teeming with vibrant Christmas decorations, illuminating the entire neighbourhood.
Above, the sky donned a gentle shade of pale blue, casting a serene backdrop to the bustling scenes below. The air, crisp and unforgiving, sent shivers coursing through my body, causing goosebumps to rise upon my skin.

Yet, despite the biting cold, there was an undeniable sense of warmth in the atmosphere, as the very essence of the holiday season permeated the air, infusing it with an irresistible fragrance of joy and anticipation.

Like and hate it at the same time.

A thunderous roar echoes through the neighbourhood, drawing startled glances from nearby children. Josh swings his leg over his motorcycle and fastens the carbon fibre helmet securely on his head.

"Come on, baby," he throws a glance over his shoulder, patting the space behind him.

"Careful with your words there, you're the baby here."

"Babe, just because I'm five years younger than you doesn't mean I'm a baby," he whines through his helmet.

I chuckle. "Baby."

He revs up the motorcycle, the exhaust producing a loud sound.
I pinch his arm and shake my head.

"You should let me ride this thing one day," I settle into the space behind him, putting on the helmet he hands over.

"1000cc? You?" He looks back at me. "No thank you, I prefer to live. You don't even know anything about bikes."

"And here I thought you knew me well."

"Alyssa, you are a stubborn mystery that cannot be solved."

☽

"What is wrong with you?!" I yell.

"It's just for lunch," his hands raise defensively. My frustration boils over as I shove him. Out of nowhere, a forceful sneeze escapes, stirred by the freezing chill in the air and the dampness of my wet hair. I grunt in frustration and yank the helmet away from my face. We stand in the basement parking of Arley&Rivens.

"Josh." I turn to him. "What part of him screaming at me last night in front of everyone did you not get? I walked out of there sure of my decision. What makes you think I'm so shameless—"

"It's just for lunch!" He whines over me.

"You know that I can see right through you?" I look up at him, aware of his motives.
"I'm not going back there after the disrespect I had to endure. Even when it was none of my fault." I tell firmly, my voice echoing throughout the basement.

"Okay," he takes a deep breath.
"I agree it was not your fault. But don't you think you should at least try to figure out how you got the wrong bag? I mean you were in the room with everyone else when Scott was passing them on.
Didn't you wonder, even for a second how you were the only one to get that specific bag?"

"Maybe it was—" I shake my head.
"I don't know meant for someone else?" I scowl with a furrowed brow.

He responds with an arched eyebrow, questioning the logic behind my words.
I don't wanna look deeply into this.

"Seriously, you can't be that stupid. You know how many people hate you in there. How can you quit so easily?" He gives me a helpless shrug.

"I am not quitting," I grit my teeth, offended by his words.

I am tired.

"Yes, you are," he shrugs and walks away.
I call out his name, my voice echoing through the basement. He keeps walking. A sneeze bursts forth again, my irritation escalating. A guttural groan escapes me, a release of pent-up frustration.

How is every single person a test of my patience?

"Do you not also have to fill out the termination paperwork?" Josh whispers down at me but I shove him away as we step into Arlington.

"Wait, isn't that the boss?" He gestures to a table. I come to an unexpected halt.

A jolt of panic sends shockwaves through my body, leaving me frozen in place. Gabriel Reyes is seated at the table. There were four guards in black surrounding their table. My stomach suddenly churns as an icy grip clutches my breath. My eyes lock onto the table, unable to tear away.

What is Luther Grimaldi doing here?

☽

Thank you for reading!

                                           -A