Chapter 12

Regina tightened the belt of her silk bathrobe with slow movements, her fingers pressing into the fabric as if grounding herself. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her skin still dewy, damp strands of hair clinging to her collarbone, and dark circles blooming under her eyes. A perfect picture of fatigue.

She was still in her thoughts when she heard it. The faint click of heels against marble.

She turned sharply, her gaze locking onto the tall, poised figure standing by the doorway.

A stranger.

Regina's brows lifted in confusion as she took in the woman before her who was impeccably dressed in a tailored white blouse tucked into high-waisted navy slacks, her sharp bob blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, framing a face that was striking.

The woman smiled, politely. "Mrs Smith-."

Regina's spine stiffened. "Don't call me that. Who the hell are you?"

The woman stepped forward, unbothered as she extended a hand. "Claire Beaumont." Her voice was crisp, professional and smooth. "Your new personal assistant."

Regina blinked, then let out a scoff while folding her arms. "I never asked for a personal assistant."

"And I was under the impression that you needed one."

Regina exhaled sharply, already irritated. "Under whose authority would that be exactly?"

"M-Mr Smith." Claire glanced around the bedroom with interest before returning her gaze to Regina. "He hired me to assist you with your daily schedule, PR management, and overall public image. As of today, I'll be handling all matters concerning your social engagements, brand partnerships, and reputation rehabilitation."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "Reputation rehabilitation? What the…"

Claire nodded. "Given your family's….misfortunes, your public perception is less than ideal. Your name has been attached to more scandals than strategic moves. If you intend to survive in high society as Mrs Smith or something more, you need more than just a recognizable last name. You need polish. That's where I come in."

Regina's jaw clenched. "You mean Daniel…my husband…hired you to make me look good."

"To make you better," Claire corrected smoothly.

Regina let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she murmured to herself. "Wow. He really does think he owns me."

Claire tilted her head slightly. "You're married to one of the most influential men in the country. That comes with expectations, whether you like it or not."

Regina's fingers curled into fists at her sides. "And you think you're qualified to tell me how to live my life? I am not poor, if you recollect or made your research."

Claire let out a chuckle, "Harvard graduate. Master's in Strategic Communications. Former PR consultant for three A-list celebrities, two Fortune 500 CEOs, and a princess." She adjusted the sleeve of her blouse. "I turned Liam Prescot, the actor with zero social grace, into Hollywood's most beloved leading man. I rebranded Princess Alina of Veredon, who went from a rebellious liability to a respected UN Goodwill Ambassador under my guidance so yes, I am qualified."

Regina's lips parted slightly in disbelief.

Claire took a step closer, "Your last public appearance? Nothing to remember. Your interviews? Unpolished. Your social media presence? Nonexistent. You have influence but lack the charisma to wield it properly. Your fashion game is good, but they lack strategy. Your red lipstick? Too aggressive for your current media narrative. You need something softer."

Regina muttered under her breath, "No. Hell no. Now you want to control how I dress?"

Claire continued as if she hadn't heard. "You don't need to push people further away with unnecessary sharp edges when you yourself are walking on thin ice."

Regina let out a scoff, "You are unbelievable."

"I like to think that I'm effective."

Regina muttered. "And what, exactly, is your grand plan? Make me wear pastels? Force me to smile more? Teach me how to win the public with rehearsed lines?" She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I hate to break it to you, Claire, but I don't want to be liked."

"That's the problem. You need to be liked. Loved, in fact."

Regina exhaled harshly, turning away before she said something regrettable. She paced towards the window.

Claire's voice remained steady. "Whether you want it or not, you are in the public eye. And if you continue to do this to yourself, it will ruin you."

Regina's fingers twitched at her sides. "And you think you can fix me?"

Claire shrugged. "I've handled worse."

Regina turned, meeting her gaze. "I don't like you."

Claire's lips curled slightly. "You don't have to."

Then Claire smoothly pulled out a folder and placed it on the nearby desk. "Your schedule for the next week. Fittings, events, interviews." She tapped a manicured finger against the top page. "I'll be overseeing everything."

Regina raised a brow. "So, I'm really not getting rid of you?"

"Not unless Mr Smith fires me." Claire continued with a smirk "And he won't."

Regina inhaled deeply, then exhaled through her nose. "Fine." She grabbed the folder, barely glancing at it as she walked toward the door. "Now get out."

Claire inclined her head, taking her time before turning on her heel and leaving.

Regina waited until the door shut behind her before throwing the folder onto the table, rubbing her temples with both hands.

Her head ached.

Everything ached.

And it didn't stop.

****

By evening, Regina found herself standing on the patio, the sun melting into the horizon. She recollected the woman she had met in the morning, Claire and she laughed. She knew she had to speak with Daniel soonest. He had to stop putting himself in her life. Hell, she didn't know where he was but he was sticking his nose in her business. He needed to know boundaries.

She had thought about calling her parents. But as she checked her phone, the absence of missed calls, of messages, stared back at her.

Her mother hadn't called.

Hadn't even texted. Neither did her father.

She was damn sure they both knew she was alive, not dead and yet they didn't call her, neither did they send a bloody message or leave a voice mail.

Regina let out a humorless laugh, bitter and sharp.

With a sigh, she locked her phone and slipped it into her dress pockets before heading back inside.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, dizziness slammed into her like a wave.

Her breath hitched, her vision swayed.

She barely made it two steps past the stairs before her knees buckled, hitting the cold marble floor.

A ringing sound filled her ears. Her own heartbeat, maybe. Or something else.

Then whispers.

Low. Familiar. Twisting in her head.

"A disappointment."

"Pathetic."

"Do you really think you matter?"

Regina clutched her head, gasping, her fingers pressing against her temples, trying her best so she could silence the voices.

"You were always disposable."

"Unwanted."

"Even your mother doesn't care."

"Shut up," she whispered, voice hoarse. Her body trembled violently, sweat dampening her skin.

"You are nothing."

"Shut up!" She clutched at the floor, dragging herself forward, her breaths shallow, desperate. L

Then she moved wrong.

The edge of the staircase was too close and her balance was too weak.

She felt her body tilt forward as her heart hammered against her rib cage.

And then strong arms caught her, pulling her back just as she tipped forward.

The scent of soap and something else filled her nose.

Regina blinked, her vision still blurry, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Daniel.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, fresh from a shower, his breathing raggged.

They locked gazes.

His arms remained around her waist, solid. His grip didn't loosen, as if he did, she'd slip away.

Regina's chest heaved, her breath shaky.

Daniel swallowed, his grip tightening. "You…" He stopped, his jaw tense. "You scared the shit out of me."

Regina barely processed his words. The warmth of his hands burned through her body. She was still trembling, still disoriented. But for the first time in minutes, the voices in her head had gone silent.

She exhaled, exhausted in his arms.

And she didn't pull away.