The Real Princess Doesn’t Need A Prince Chapter 05

The Real Princess Doesn’t Need A Prince Chapter 05

Preston’s face flushed crimson. “Mr. Sterling, that’s not what I meant. I just thought Vivian’s approach was… heavy-handed.”

“Serena’s background is tough. Getting gifts like that puts pressure on her—”

“Pressure?” My father glanced at Serena. “My daughter gave you something. You felt pressured. Why didn’t you just return it?”

Serena’s lips trembled, but no words came.

“Can’t return it, can you?” My father’s voice turned icy. “Because you don’t want to. You want the gifts, but you also want to be the poor, noble victim. Both ends of the stick. Clever little game.”

Serena’s tears splattered onto the table, her whole body folding in on itself.

Preston jumped in again. “Mr. Sterling, you can’t speak to her like that! She’s only eighteen—”

“She’s eighteen. So is my daughter,” my father cut him off. “Where was she when my daughter was being humiliated? She was sitting right here, watching you throw coffee at her.”

Preston choked.

Then my father smiled—the kind of smile that never reached his eyes.

“Preston. You’re twenty-five. You flew across the ocean for a girl you’ve known a month, to publicly shame your own fiancée.”

“Your father’s going to have a sleepless night when he hears how ‘well’ you’ve handled this.”

Preston’s face went ashen. The weight of the situation finally crushed down on him—this wasn’t just a “mediation” anymore.

My father turned back to me, his hand brushing my hair. “Vivian, what do you want to do?”

I sniffled and dabbed at my completely dry eyes. “Dad, I just want to go back to the dorm and change. The coffee smell is giving me a headache.”

“Done.” He waved a hand. “Eric, get my daughter a jacket.”

One of the bodyguards disappeared.

My father faced Preston again, his voice now back to the composed, steel-tipped tone of the boardroom.

“Preston. I won’t forget today. I’ll be speaking with your father personally. You’d do well to reflect.”

He led me toward the door, then paused without turning back. “And you, young lady, keep the La Mer. The Sterling family doesn’t take gifts back.”

“But hear this: if there’s a next time, I’ll make sure you can’t even find a place to live in Kingston. That’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

The cafe door shut behind us.

The evening breeze hit my face, warm with early summer. I glanced down at the stain on my shirt and grimaced.

My father caught my expression and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Dad will handle it.”

I looked up and smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

He sighed, his tone softening back into the familiar, helpless affection. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“Hey, they started it.” I looped my arm through his.

“Dad, what’s Preston’s deal anyway? He’s never lifted a finger for me in ten years. Not a birthday call, not a holiday text. And now he’s playing white knight for some girl he barely knows?”

My father snorted. “New toy. Some girl flatters him and he loses his head. No spine, that one.”

He paused, then added, “But don’t worry about the Ford family. I have plans.”

I didn’t ask. In my experience, when Dad said he had “plans,” things got handled.

Back in the dorm, I changed shirts while Mandy and Zara peppered me with questions. I gave them the recap.

Mandy was so furious she slapped the desk. “That snake is shameless! Takes your stuff and still plays the victim! And Preston’s a blind fool!”

Zara was calmer. “Vivian, what’s your next move? Are you letting this slide?”

I adjusted my collar in the mirror. “Relax. The show’s just getting started.”

Sure enough, Preston’s calls came that night. I watched the screen light up, ignored it. He tried a few more times, then sent a text:

[Vivian, I was out of line today. Can we talk?]

I didn’t reply. Just turned my phone face down.