Chapter 1: Sinister (Brielle's POV)

I sat in my seat in the church, listening to my father give another one of his speeches. I stifled a yawn and looked out the window, watching a woman who was trying to calm her baby that appeared to be crying. 

Everyone in the church was startled and gasped when the doors opened with a loud thud, hitting the walls behind them. My father stopped his speech and glared up at the person. 

I think I'm the only one who didn't turn in my seat to look at his face. Because I'm the only one who knew it would be him. 

He mumbled apologies while walking down the aisle. I watched as he walked past me and to the stand with the bowl of holy water. He dipped his middle finger in it, only his middle finger, and touched his forehead, the center of his chest, and each of his shoulders. He's the only one who would do that. And also wear all black to a church. 

I bit down the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh at my father's expression. You're not meant to do that just with your middle finger, obviously. 

"Please, continue," he smiled, sauntering over to me and sitting in the empty spot beside mine. 

My father continued talking and I watched in silence. 

"What'd I miss?" he whispered, nudging my elbow. 

"Why don't you ask God?" I mumbled, not turning to look at me. 

"Ouch," he chuckled. 

"Why is it that you sit with me and not with your family when you do this?" I asked through gritted teeth. 

"Because they're annoying. So are you. But it's just as fun to annoy you," he smirked, tucking my hair behind my ear. 

I ignored him and crossed one leg over the other, digging my heel into his shin. 

He chuckled and stopped, turning to my father as well. 

With the end of my father's speech and prayers, everyone clapped and then all the doors to the church room were opened so people could head out in different directions. 

I stood up, gathering my dress and praying that I could avoid this today. 

"Brielle!" 

I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth before turning around and plastering a smile on my face. "Yes?" I smiled at my father. 

"We're heading for lunch. Where are you going?" he frowned. 

"To the bathroom. Never mind now," I sighed, following him to the table that was set up for all pastors and their families, as well as the royal family. Which, unfortunately, included that jackass. 

My dad just happens to be Ashbourne's most well-known and respected pastor. I thought that was a good thing. Until it turned my life upside down. Now everything I do directly affects his image. And I can't do anything I like in public. If I do... let's just say it isn't fun. 

I took a seat beside my mother, greeting the people in my immediate surroundings and ignoring the others. The seat to my left was free and I was praying someone took it. Anyone but him. But I swear, I step into this church and my luck runs out. I greeted his parents who passed my seat and then turned to him when I felt his leg brush against mine. "What?" I snapped. 

"Someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he taunted. 

"I wake up on the wrong side of the bed every Sunday." 

He nudged my knee. 

"What?" I asked again. 

"Brielle." I looked forward and found Mrs. Laurence sitting there. She adjusted the strap of her dress and then looked down at mine. 

I followed her gaze and realized my bra strap was showing. I flashed her a fake smile and then adjusted my dress so it wouldn't show, even pulling my hair forward to hide it. Next time, I just won't wear one. 

Motherfuckers. 

"That's highly inappropriate, Brielle." 

I turned back to him. "What is?" 

"Your bra strap showing," he smirked. 

"Would you rather I not wear one?" I asked, putting on a sweet tone to my voice. 

"I'd rather you wear nothing at all, love," he whispered, leaning in. 

I rolled my eyes and turned to the food, taking whatever I wanted and then waiting. 

Everyone grabbed hands and I cringed before grabbing his while all the pastors led with the prayers, ending with a wonderful 'Amen.' I kept quiet for the most part, only answering the questions that came my way. I did everything as I was ordered to. But when my eyes met my father's, something told me he wasn't happy. And I wouldn't be when we got home either. 

We waited for the others to leave and I stood there, watching my father say something to my mother before she walked over to me. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, keeping my voice down. 

"God knows why he does this," she sighed. 

"Isn't it obvious?" I rolled my eyes. "He's sinister." 

"Don't talk about your dad like that," she hissed, grabbing my elbow. 

I turned to her. "He's not my dad. Just my father," I smiled. 

She let go and we turned to the last family. The royal family. "We'll see you tomorrow night at the palace," King Harrison smiled at us before leaving, his wife following him. 

But he lingered behind. He always lingers behind. 

"You should come to church on time, son," my father said to him. 

"I will try. Work keeps me busy." 

"Too busy for God?" 

"Too busy for God," he nodded before bowing his head, his eyes briefly meeting mine. "See you tomorrow night," he smirked at me and then walked away, following his parents. He's sinister too. Just in a completely different way. It's hard to believe we were friends once. Best friends. Then his coronation happened and he was crowned officially as the prince when he turned sixteen. And he completely changed. 

I turned to my parents and found my dad still glaring. "I'll deal with you at home," he mumbled before walking away, my mother and I following him. 

"Why don't you just wear different dresses, Brielle?" my mother sighed. 

"You picked this dress, mother," I spat. "But don't worry. Next time, I won't wear a bra. No straps showing then," I scoffed, climbing into the car with her while my father sat in the front passenger seat and our chauffeur, Mr. Naveen drove us home. 

My parents both got out first when we arrived. 

"Thank you," I smiled at Mr. Naveen before following them into the house. 

We entered the foyer and my mother continued to their room while my father stopped and turned to me. "What are you wearing?" he asked. 

"The dress that your wife picked out," I replied, keeping my hands behind my back. 

He scowled and walked over to me. "Have some self-respect and be a little modest, Brielle." 

I blinked, not saying anything or bowing my head like he probably wants me to. "Would you like me to show you in advance what dress your wife picks for me next time?" I asked. 

He clenched his jaw. 

"The whole point of her picking what I wear to church is for me to look modest, isn't it?" I lifted a brow. 

And then what I was expecting happened. He struck me. He slapped me. Right across the face. Like he always does. I used to flinch or wince. I used to react. I don't now, I've gotten used to it. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while I looked back at him, my hands forming into fists behind my back. "Go to your room." 

I walked around him, heading upstairs and to my room, softly closing the door behind me, twisting the lock. I stormed to my bed, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it at the top of my lungs. I threw it onto the floor before ripping the dress off and kicking the heels off. I walked to my closet and grabbed sweatpants and a full-sleeve black t-shirt, changing in the closet itself. 

I walked to my vanity, throwing my hair up in a bun before going to the bathroom and scrubbing my face clean of the makeup. I stared at the spot on my cheek that was already turning red and tingling with a burn. I splashed my face with cold water and then patted it dry, putting moisturizer on. I threw the dress in the hamper, kicked the heels away, and then climbed into bed, grabbing my phone and earphones. 

I went and unlocked the door when I heard a knock and then got back in bed, plugging the earphones in. Our housemaid, Ms. Jenny, who has been here since I was a child and practically raised me, walked in. She went to the bathroom to take the laundry from the day and set my heels upright when she saw them before walking over to me, sitting beside me. She ripped my earphones out and then sighed sadly, staring at my cheek. "Does it hurt?" 

I didn't answer her and turned to the window. 

"I told your mother not to pick that dress," she mumbled. "Do you want some ice, Peach?" 

I shook my head. 

"Some iced tea?" 

I turned to look at her. 

She smiled softly. 

I chuckled, "Iced tea would be great." 

"I'll be right back." She patted my head before leaving. 

My eyes went from the window to the photos pinned above my desk. The first one I saw was of River and me. I think we were fourteen in that. It was from one of those fancy parties. Maybe his family was hosting or maybe it was someone else and his family was attending, I can't remember. But his tie matched my dress. 

Ms. Jenny walked back in, handing me the glass. She followed my gaze and then shot me a sorry look when I turned to her. 

"It sucks that he's a prick now, doesn't it?" I asked. 

She nodded. "But I can understand." 

I stared at her blankly. 

"Everything changes when you're crowned. Your attitude must too." 

"He didn't have to become such a bad guy. He bullied me until we graduated," I scoffed. 

"I don't think he meant harm though, Peach. He doesn't know he hurt you." 

"And he never will," I shrugged. 

"Ms. Jenny!" We heard my mother calling. She saw herself out and I slowly finished the iced tea before lying down and closing my eyes. 

My duties for today are done. I can go back to sleep.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 1

TELL ME WHAT YA THINK

and we hate her dad, let's get that straight

next chapter: duties