3 broken crown, p.1
3 - Broken Crown, page 1
part #3 of Broken Crown Trilogy Series
Broken Crown
Broken Crown Trilogy
Book 3
T.K. Leigh
BROKEN CROWN
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not sponsored, associated, or endorsed by the trademark owner.
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Published by Carpe Per Diem Publishing, Inc
Cover Design: Cat Head Media, Inc.
Cover assets:
© 2023 Denis Ivanov
Used under license from iStock Photo
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Copyright © 2023 Tracy Kellam
All rights reserved.
Broken Crown
After a decade of allowing his guilt to burden him, Creed Lawson is finally ready to move on from his past and only focus on his future. A future with Esme.
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Until a ghost from his past shows up and makes him question everything he’s believed to be true.
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Makes him question everyone he’s believed to be true.
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When a shocking revelation comes to light, he’ll not just have to risk his legacy in order to be with Esme.
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He’ll have to risk his life.
Contents
Books by T.K. Leigh
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part II
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part III
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Royal Games
Also by T.K. Leigh
Connect with Me
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by T.K. Leigh
For a full list of all of T.K.’s books, including recommended reading order, please visit T.K.’s website:
www.tkleighauthor.com
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Prologue
End of Fallen Knight
Creed
By the time I pull into my driveway after taking a detour to the gym, then the office, Rory’s car is gone.
I hate avoiding her like this, but I need time to figure out how I’m going to handle things. It doesn’t help that Adam’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks, which is always a difficult time. Hopefully, she’ll understand why I need to start extricating myself from this situation. That she’ll see I’m not abandoning her, but moving on with my life.
Maybe this will give her the freedom to move on with her life, too.
When I step into the house, everything’s quiet. The kitchen’s a bit of a mess, dishes scattered across the island, a stack of dirty pans piled in the sink, evidence of a rushed breakfast. On the refrigerator is a hastily scrawled note, reminding me about AJ’s football game in thirty minutes, giving me just enough time for a quick shower.
I grab a banana from the fruit basket and quickly eat it. Just as I toss the peel into the garbage bin, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket, secretly hoping it’s Esme. Instead, I see my father’s name.
While we’re much closer than we once were, he still doesn’t call me out of the blue like this. Whenever he needs to discuss something, he typically stops by my office. Or calls my work mobile. Not my personal one.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, dispensing with a normal greeting.
“Did you see the news?”
Heat rushes over my face, my worry increasing.
Were paparazzi stationed outside Gladwell this morning? Did they catch me leaving Esme’s apartment and try to make a quick buck by selling a photo to the media? We’d just agreed to wait until August to avoid this kind of thing. Did we screw ourselves over already?
“I haven’t. I—”
“A car was pulled from Sufford Lake in the Brimford Recreation Area. A fisherman discovered it yesterday evening.”
I blow out a breath, shoulders falling in relief that this isn’t regarding Esme and me.
“What does this have to do with—”
“It was registered to Callie Sloane. Her remains were found in the trunk.”
Silence falls over the line as I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s been missing for ten years. Regardless of any evidence of foul play, I’d assumed she was dead. At least her family will finally get some closure.
If she has any family.
From what I remember, Hayes Barlow was the only person who seemed remotely interested in finding her.
“Were they able to determine the cause of death?”
“Evidence of sharp force trauma was found in her ribs, indicating she most likely died from a stab wound to her lower right abdomen.”
“Stab wound? Wasn’t Gianna Vale also stabbed in the lower right abdomen?”
“I won’t lie and tell you I didn’t immediately think the same thing when I heard, but as of right now, the authorities are treating them as two isolated events. At least until they can investigate things further.”
“Any idea who’s responsible?” I ask.
“Right now, their lead suspect is Hayes Barlow.”
“Really?” I blink repeatedly, taken aback by this revelation. “What led to that conclusion?”
“Her car was found just a few miles away from a lake house Hayes Barlow owned.”
“Why?” I scrunch my brows, a heaviness settling in the pit of my stomach.
“The working theory is that he was infatuated with her. That—”
“No. Not why he’d kill her. Why would he go through the effort of bringing her disappearance to the public’s attention, even after the police refused to do so, when it could potentially backfire on him?”
My father sighs. “I’m not an expert in these types of things, but according to a forensic psychologist the bureau brought in, he displayed signs of being infatuated with Callie Sloane. Obsessed, really. When she didn’t return his affections, he killed her. In his mind, if he couldn’t have her, no one could. When no one would look into her disappearance, he was probably irritated. He was often ignored as a child, which shaped his need for attention as an adult, both positive and negative. The idea that his crimes weren’t being displayed all over television most likely angered him. So he took matters into his own hands and made sure everyone knew what he’d done, even if he didn’t come right out and confess his involvement.”
I look into the distance, ruminating this theory over in my mind. It is plausible. But something about it doesn’t sit right with me. It seems too clean.
Too easy.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew, given who Hayes is, and what not.” My father’s voice forces me back to the present.
“Thanks,” I respond, still somewhat in a daze.
“Of course. I’ll see you at AJ’s game.”
“See you then,” I say before ending the call, unable to shake this premonition that there’s more to Callie’s death than the police believe.
But what?
Running a hand over
I trudge up the stairs and am about to slip into my room but stop in my tracks when I glance at the door to Adam’s office and notice it’s slightly ajar.
If it were any other room, I wouldn’t think twice. But this room is different. This door is always sealed tight, no matter what.
It could be nothing, but I can’t shake the feeling in my gut that something’s not right, especially after my father’s phone call.
And Adam taught me to always listen to my gut.
Lifting my hand to the knob, I take a deep breath, the hair on my nape standing on end. Then I push the door open, my blood spiking when my eyes fall on a figure standing by the windows, his head lowered as he flips through one of Adam’s files.
With all the military precision I’ve been taught throughout my career, I reach into my coat and grab my pistol, aiming it at him.
“You have exactly two seconds to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here before I decorate the walls with your brain.”
My voice echoes in the silence, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring.
“Now!” I yell when he doesn’t move, completely ignoring my presence.
As if he belongs here more than I do.
Finally, he sighs and slowly turns around.
The air whooshes from my lungs as I stare into the eyes of the man who killed my brother.
Whose boat had been attacked on the North Sea.
Who everyone thought was dead.
But he’s not.
How could he be when Hayes Barlow is currently standing in my brother’s office, looking very much alive?
“Good morning, Captain Lawson,” he says with a sly smile, tossing the file onto the desk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Part One
Doubt
“Doubt is an uncomfortable condition,
but certainty is a ridiculous one.”
~ Voltaire
Chapter One
Esme
I tap my fingernails against the armrest in the back seat of the SUV, staring out of the window, the city alive with tourists and locals enjoying one of the first nice spring days. People sit at sidewalk cafés. Or pose for photos. Or hop on a boat for a tour of the canals. It’s the type of day I’d typically spend outdoors, basking in the sun on my face as I celebrate the end of winter.
Not today, though.
Sadly, my father has other plans.
What those plans are, I have no idea.
Which is why there’s currently a heavy knot of dread weighing down my stomach.
It’s taking every ounce of resolve I possess not to fidget with the hem of my skirt or chew my nails down to the quick. Every few seconds, I steal a glance at Archie in the front seat. As always, his expression gives nothing away, including why my father ordered me to the palace for an unscheduled meeting.
On a Saturday.
Whatever he needs to speak to me about must be important.
Which only makes my unease grow.
My mind goes through all the possible reasons my father might want to see me.
One stands out amongst them all.
My surprise visitor last night.
I bite back the infectious smile threatening to form on my mouth from the memory of Creed practically barging into my apartment. I’ve pinched myself countless times since he left early this morning, wondering if I imagined it all.
But my sore muscles and the ache between my legs is evidence I didn’t. That Creed and I have finally found our way back to each other. I didn’t think this would ever happen. Thought he’d carry the guilt of Adam’s death for the rest of his life.
It was because of that guilt I kept the truth from him.
But last night, I realized by doing so, I’d added to his burden. If Creed knew Adam’s final act on earth was one of selfless love for his brother, maybe he’d realize he deserved the happiness Adam was willing to sacrifice everything for him to experience.
And that’s exactly what happened.
The second I revealed what happened that night all those years ago, every single wall Creed had erected around his heart came crashing down, the chains shackling him to a life of regret and shame freeing him.
Freeing us.
But now I worry we weren’t as discreet as I thought.
Creed had assured me he was careful, using the back service entrance to the grounds of Gladwell Palace so the guard stationed at the front gates wouldn’t see him. He even parked in the staff lot and walked to my apartment.
Did someone see him anyway?
Did we already screw ourselves before we’ve had a chance to be together?
God, I hope not.
After what seems like an eternity, Archie finally pulls the SUV through the imposing gates of Lamberside Palace and continues toward the private entrance leading to my father’s personal residence.
The instant the SUV comes to a stop, a man in the standard butler uniform of a red jacket and dark pants opens my door and bows.
“Your Highness.” Oliver, the head butler, extends his arm, helping me out of the car. “This way, please. His Majesty is expecting you.”
I draw in a deep breath to suppress the nervous butterflies swimming in my stomach, sending up one more prayer that this has nothing to do with Creed.
While it wouldn’t be the end of the world for me if someone learned about us, completing his military service is important to Creed. The one thing I’ve learned about Creed Lawson is that he’s a proud and honorable man. If he’s going to walk away from his career to be with me, he needs to do so with honor.
Something that won’t be possible if anyone learned we were together last night.
And in New York.
The corridors are distressingly quiet as I follow Oliver toward my father’s personal residence, although there’s nothing personal about my surroundings, even in the residential wing. It’s maintained with the same precision as the rest of the palace, everything more akin to a museum than a home.
I felt this way when I first moved here after my grandfather’s death.
I still feel the same way now.
“He’s in his study. You may go ahead.”
I give Oliver a small smile, then continue down the long corridor, pausing outside a set of ornate double wooden doors before knocking.
“Come in.” My father’s deep voice reverberates into the hallway.
I hesitate, analyzing his tone for anything that might give me a clue as to my reason for being here.
As always, it’s impassive.
Smoothing a hand down my dress, I open the door and slip inside his study.
“Your Majesty,” I greet with a slight curtsy.
Standing from the couch, he offers me the same respect and gives me a subtle bow of his head. Then he walks toward me and wraps me in a hug, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
“How are you, Esme?”
“I’m well.” I force a nervous smile, praying he can’t pick up on my anxiety.
