The Real Princess Doesn’t Need A Prince Chapter 08

The Real Princess Doesn’t Need A Prince Chapter 08

The real drama was with Preston.

The Fords’ losses kept mounting. My father had a surgical touch—never pushed anyone to the brink, but made sure they suffered.

Harrison Ford came to our house three times. Each time, my father received him with perfect politeness, and then talked in circles whenever business came up.

On the fourth visit, Harrison brought Preston.

Preston walked in like a wilted flower, head down, his usual arrogance completely gone. He stood behind his father and couldn’t even meet my eyes.

Harrison pleaded for mercy, groveled, even hinted at moving up the wedding, offering shares of Preston’s subsidiaries as a wedding gift to the Sterlings.

My father sipped his tea, utterly serene. “Harrison, we’ve known each other for decades. Do you really think I’m short on equity?”

Harrison’s forehead was beaded with sweat. “Then what would you suggest, Richard?”

My father set down his cup and glanced at Preston. “I just think that when young people talk about marriage, they should act like adults.”

“My Vivian has never been wronged in her life. And her own fiancé throws coffee in her face in front of strangers? How does that look for the Sterling name?”

Harrison shot Preston a murderous glare.

Preston finally raised his head, met my eyes, and forced out the words. “Vivian. I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

“I shouldn’t have believed Serenas lies without hearing your side. I shouldn’t have blown up at you. And I definitely shouldn’t have thrown that drink.”

“It won’t happen again. Whatever you say goes from now on.”

I stared at his defeated posture and felt nothing.

“Preston, answer me honestly: are you apologizing because you mean it, or because your father’s making you?”

His face twitched, and after a long pause, he said, “Both.”

I laughed. “At least you’re honest this time.”

I turned to my father. “Dad, let it go. We’ve made our point. Dragging this out isn’t fun anymore.”

My father raised an eyebrow. “Sure?”

“Yeah.” I stood up. “But Preston, I’m going to have a serious talk with my father about our engagement. This whole thing made me question if you’re husband material.”

His face went white. “Vivian—”

I walked out without looking back. Behind me, Harrison’s voice rose in a frustrated tirade against his son, followed by Preston’s weary excuses.

I let it all fade behind me as I stepped into the summer sunshine.

My father caught up and put a hand on my shoulder. “Vivian, you really want to break it off?”

I thought for a moment. “Not necessarily. I’ll keep him on hold for now. If he’s genuinely changed, maybe there’s a chance. If he’s just doing damage control, better to cut my losses now.”

My father chuckled. “Look at you. My little girl’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

I slipped my arm through his. “Of course. I’m the princess of Kingston, remember?”

After that, the gossip on campus died down completely.

Not because my father had scared anyone, but because after Serena’s transfer, the full story leaked.

Those who’d flamed me in the group chat privately apologized. Others were too embarrassed to face me, so they posted vague statuses about having been “misled.”

Mandy asked if I wanted to go after the ringleaders. I shook my head.

Not worth it.

Life settled back into routine. Serena went quiet in her new dorm. When I ran into her in the hall, she’d keep her head down and hurry past, like she was afraid of disturbing something.

I didn’t feel much toward her. Not hate, not forgiveness. She just didn’t matter anymore.

Preston, though, had turned a corner. He put his overseas project on hold, moved back to Kingston, and started sending small gifts to my school—flowers, desserts, little things.

I didn’t acknowledge them. But I didn’t throw them away either.

Twenty-five was still young enough to learn. But that was a problem for future Vivian.

Right now? Finals were looming. And I hadn’t opened my calculus textbook once.

I spread the book open on my desk. Mandy leaned over, grinning like a hyena. “What’s this? The princess of Kingston stressing over calculus?”

I smashed her with the book without a word.

Later that night, after lights out, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The last six months had been… something.

Before college, I thought money and spectacle would get me through anything.

But I’d learned that what really made people respect you wasn’t your bank balance.

It was whether you could stand your ground when people came for you, and whether you knew how to handle kindness when it was offered.

Serena taught me one thing: pride and insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

She’d been so tight-wound, twisting every good intention into an insult, magnifying every minor grievance into oppression. That kind of person would never be happy anywhere.

And what I taught her? She’d have to figure that out on her own.

The AC hummed at seventy-five degrees. I pulled the blanket up and closed my eyes.

Tomorrow was a new day.

And the story of Vivian Sterling, the princess of Kingston, was just getting started.