Alexander stared at the photo, his breath catching.

“This crash was ruled an accident by the local police,” he said.

“It wasn’t,” I said. “Your adviser staged it. He used the threat of framing Rachel to force her into siphoning money from our family trust into his accounts.”

Alexander looked up from the screen, his face completely devoid of color.

“And Rachel?” he asked. “She agreed to this?”

“She did it to protect our mother,” I said. “Our mother is alive, Alexander. She is in Switzerland. Whitmore is holding her there to ensure Rachel’s compliance.”

He shook his head slowly, stepping back from the desk.

“This is madness,” he said. “She lied to me. She looked into my eyes every day and spoke of her dead mother.”

“She was terrified,” I said.

“She should have told me!” Alexander raised his voice, his royal composure cracking. “I would have helped her. My family would have protected her.”

“Would you?” I asked. “Or would the King have quietly dismissed her to avoid a scandal with Whitmore?”

Alexander did not answer.