The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era

673 A GAMBLE IʼM MORE THAN WILLING TO TAKE

ELLIS felt like a flying car had hit her—except instead of bruises and wounds, it left her with a pounding headache and the sudden, irrational certainty that she was seconds away from cardiac arrest. She clutched the edge of the table, her grip so tight it could probably leave fingerprints on solid oak, while her eyes darted to the teapot like it was the only thing tethering her to sanity. Without thinking, she grabbed her teacup and started drinking. Sip. Sip. Sip. A brief pause. Sip. Was it helping? Not at all. But the thought of putting the cup down felt like admitting defeat, and she wasnʼt about to let a family scandal knock her out of commission. She poured herself another cup with shaky hands, muttering internally about needing to invest in a flask—forget water; she was going to start carrying emergency tea for moments like these. She stared at Astrid across the table, her mind still swirling with disbelief. Was he serious? Of course, he was serious. No one dropped news like this as a joke. Still, she couldnʼt shake the mental image of herself flopping dramatically onto the floor like a character in a bad drama. Instead, she drained her second cup of tea and immediately poured a third. By the end of this, she might end up as caffeinated as a hummingbird, but at least sheʼd be too jittery to focus on the worldʼs most absurd PR crisis sitting across from her.

”Sister Ellis?” Astrid said, his voice breaking the silence as he looked at his agent.

He could see Ellis doing everything in her power to keep her cool. She kept fidgeting, tapping her fingers lightly on the table or adjusting her grip on the teacup as if the small movements could somehow distract her from the weight of what sheʼd just heard. Every few seconds, sheʼd take another sip of tea, like she was following a set routine to stop herself from spiraling. Her shoulders were stiff, and her breaths came a little too fast, almost like she was trying to regulate them but couldnʼt quite manage. Even her gaze seemed to wander, shifting between the table, the teapot, and anywhere but his face, as though looking at him might make her lose whatever grip she had left on her composure.

Astrid wisely kept his mouth shut, giving Ellis the space to process everything. He had a strong suspicion that if he dared to ask what they should do next, she might grab the teacup in front of her and toss its contents directly at his face without a second thought.

Ellis drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. She repeated the process a few more times, each exhale seeming to chip away at the tension in her body. Eventually, her forced composure began to settle, and she finally managed to regain her calm.

”Alright,” she said after a moment, her tone steadying. ”Since you canʼt pick your family, weʼll just have to play the hand weʼve been dealt.”

Astrid nodded, relieved that Ellis seemed to have settled down. ”Do you have any suggestions on how we handle this?” Ellis let out a dry laugh, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. ”Honestly? Iʼve got nothing right now,” she said, her voice tinged with exasperation. ”I wouldnʼt even know where to start explaining this to someone without it sounding like the plot of a bad soap opera.” Astrid gave a faint, almost sheepish smile as he shrugged. ”If itʼs any consolation,” he said lightly, ”my relationship with Wulf will probably hit the headlines long before anyone digs up my familyʼs secrets.”

Ellis rolled her eyes. ”Thatʼs hardly any consolation.”

”Iʼm just saying this secret isnʼt something that would be exposed easily,” Astrid said. ”My grandfather and uncles will do whatever it takes to keep my mother safe. They wonʼt let anything jeopardize her. And Wulf is there too—if anything starts to surface, heʼll make sure itʼs dealt with before it becomes an issue.”

”I understand the Grimaldis since they have a vested interest in this. But are you sure the prince will always be in your corner?” Ellis asked. ”Iʼm not trying to be harsh, but peopleʼs lives and priorities evolve—things happen, situations change. The prince might be sincere now, but no one can predict how heʼll feel or act in a few years. Even a year from now, his focus could shift for any number of reasons. Trusting someoneʼs feelings to stay the same over time, especially in something as sensitive as this, is a gamble you might not want to take.”