Tears blur my vision, making it difficult to run through the crowds near the main entrance. As I weave and crash through people, I hear a few call out. A few angry about being rudely shoved aside, some concerned about my well-being.

I ignore them all.

I don’t want to be comforted. I just want to put as much space between myself and Lucas as possible. Maybe, if I do that, the pain his words caused will fade.

I hurl myself into a waiting taxi and order the driver to take me to the museum and to drive as quickly as possible.

I use the back of my hand to wipe my eyes. It takes all my self-control to hold the sobs in. There’s time for crying later. Right now, I need to plan. I need to come up with a way to get out of the country as quickly as possible.

“Ma’am, are you okay,” the driver asks in a heavily accented voice. At least he speaks English.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just having a bad day.”

“’Kay, but if there’s anything I can do to …” He brakes for a red light and uses the opportunity to look at me in the rearview mirror. “Hey, you look an awful lot like Prince Lucas’s new wife, Princess … um, Alexis. Yeah, that’s it – Princess Alexis.”

“I’m not her.”

“Really? Cause based on the picture of her. And, isn’t there a fencing competition going on at that place I picked you up at. Prince Lucas has always fenced.”

I can’t handle this conversation right now. Just the sound of his name drives a knife of hurt and betrayal into my heart.

I jump on the first idea that passes through my brain. “I look like her but I’m not. I was hired as a kind of doppelganger to draw the press and fans away from her so she can watch her husband fence.”

It’s a good story, or at least a good enough one to appease the cab driver. He returns his attention to the road just in time for the light to turn green.

I lean back against the seat and watch the scenery flicker past.

The pain of betrayal isn’t constant. It comes in waves, each one crashing into my soul with such force that I’m afraid the next one will shatter me.

I won’t let that happen.

The contract I signed when I got married stated that I’d stay with Lucas and be his wife for six months. Well, that’s not going to happen. I can’t stay in the same country – much less in the same castle with a man who thinks I’m capable of walking off with someone else's treasures.

My mind rattles through my options – settling on a plan instead of focusing on the overwhelming hurt crushing my chest like a vise. There’s not much cash in my purse, but I still have my credit cards, so I have enough to buy the first available ticket back to Boston. I don’t care what it costs.

All of my contact information, including Tessa’s number, is stored in my cell phone. Which is currently sitting on a chair in the royal family’s private box, so I can’t even call Tessa and tell her what happened. I decide to shoot her an email after booking a flight.

And I’ll have to stop at a department store or something and buy a few changes of clothes. All of mine are in Lucas’s bedroom and I’ll be damned if I’m going there to fetch them. God only knows what else he’d accuse me of taking.

The cab glides to a stop in front of the museum. I thank the driver and hand him all of my cash, and make a mental note to withdraw some more when I find an ATM machine.

The museum is empty today. It’s the construction crew’s day off, thank God. The last thing I want to do right now is run into anyone.

I dig out my keys and unlock the front door and let myself in.

I take two steps into the foyer and stop in my tracks.

I love this place. I’ve poured my entire heart and soul into it, and the results are just becoming evident. Pealing wall paper has been replaced with fresh paint. The team of construction workers have repairs damaged glass, chipped walls, and the million other problems the building had.

I step into what used to be a fancy ballroom, and where we planned on displaying most of the treasures. Freshly installed shelves and half-finished display cases greet me.

How many times have I stood in this exact place and imagined what it will look like once it’s finished? Just this morning Tessa and I stood there, beside the handcrafted display case that still needed its glass inserted, and talked about how magical it was going to look and how excited we were about seeing our vision become reality.

Now, I never will.

The realization is the last blow. I run to the bathroom, drop to my knees and empty the contents of my stomach into one of the brand-new toilets, before curling up on the floor and giving into the sobs I’ve been fighting since fleeing Lucas.