CHAPTER 89: CLOSURE

CHAPTER 89: CLOSURE
OSKAR

The email hits my inbox at 6:42 a.m. sharp.

I has no subject line and no return option to the sender. But that doesn’t matter because I already know who it’s from. 

I spent all night waiting for it, and now that it’s here, my heart rate triples. 

Have fun.

I stare at the one sentence for a moment, trying to mentally prepare myself for whatever lies behind that one click. 

Finally, I click it open and wait.

The file takes a second to load. When it opens, the video quality is grainy at first, and I assume it's a cheap security cam footage.

But when it loads properly, the scene and the people in it become clear, and I can tell it’s Johan in the video. In a parking garage. Screaming at someone.

The timestamp says it’s from six months ago.

He grabs a young woman by the arm—hard—and shoves her into the side of a car. She hits it with a thud and tries to scoot away from him. She’s saying something, rubbing her hands together in supplication, but Johan keeps yelling in her face. He shoves her one more time. 

A man intervenes. Johan punches him, clean across the jaw. He falls to the floor and Johan kicks him several times in the gut. Then he spits on the woman before driving off.

I freeze the frame. The woman’s face is visible. She’s crying.

I don’t know who she is, but that doesn't matter. What matters is what Johan is doing.

Assault. Intimidation. Violence. All caught on camera.

If this leaks, it would ruin him.

I close the laptop and pick up my phone.

I find Johan’s number that I took from Elise’s phone and send the video to him.

Barely a minute passes before my phone rings.

I answer without hesitation.

“Who the fuck is this?”

My voice is steady when I speak, even though just the sound of his voice is enough to boil my blood. “I don’t think that’s your biggest problem right now. Johan.”

There’s a pause from his end of the phone. Then, “Oskar?”

Another pause and then laughter. When he speaks again, his voice has changed—less angry, more amused. “Oh, you. Elise’s little watchdog. What, you think this scares me? This is nothing compared to what I have on the little princess. What I have will ruin her. You don’t know the half of what I—”

“By the time I hang up this call,” I interrupt, “this video will hit every tabloid, every political blog, every embassy press list in Sweden within the hour.”

“And I’ll do the same with her videos.”

“It won’t matter then, Johan,” I explain to him calmly. “The whole world will already know you as an abuser and a woman-beater. Anything you do after would just help prove that point. And do you know what the people hate more than the privileged royals?” I pause. “Bullies.”

He’s silent.

I keep going. “The royal family has a formidable PR team. Elise’s scandal? They’ll find a way to fix it. But yours would stick forever. Hell, you'll probably be arrested.”

His breathing changes, getting heavier, and I imagine him sweating. “What…what the fuck do you want?”

“Lunch,” I say. “You, me, and Elise. Ristorante Orione. One o’clock.”

“I’m not—”

“Come, or I hit send.”

Another beat of silence.

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

 

Getting Elise out of the palace is harder than it should be.

I time it during a routine staff change. I tell security I’ve been ordered to escort her to an embassy meeting. Captain Olsson raises a brow, but nods when I flash the forged document.

It’s risky.

But it works.

Elise wears sunglasses, hair up, lips tight. She doesn’t ask where we’re going, and her blind faith in me elicits both a warm feeling in my chest and an uncomfortable one in my stomach. She just climbs into the passenger seat and waits.

She finally speaks when we pull up to the restaurant.

“Oskar,” she says slowly, “what is this?”

“Closure.”

She blinks, glancing between the restaurant and me. “That’s vague and terrifying.”

“Just trust me.”

That earns me a sigh, but she alights from the car and follows me in.

The hostess seats us in the back, beneath a framed map of Sicily. The air smells like basil, garlic, and freshly baked bread.

Elise and I both order water.

We don’t have to wait long.

Johan walks in wearing a navy jacket, a white shirt, and a fake calm expression. His eyes scan the restaurant and land on us.

Elise stiffens, but I place my hand reassuringly over hers and give her a small nod. We both watch as Johan moves closer to us.

He stops in front of the table.

His shoulders droop. His pride folds almost physically. I think that in the time between our phone call and now, he must have really thought about everything I said and realized that in this situation, he’s at the biggest disadvantage. 

And so when he gets on his knees, I’m not as surprised as the princess.

“Elise,” he says in a voice that actually sounds remorseful. But I know it’s just fear. Assholes like him are never truly repentant. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks. “What?”

He pulls out his phone and sets it gently on the table. “The real one.”

“You can delete anything and everything on it. I swear on my life that I haven’t made any copies. I’ll never contact you again. I promise.”

Elise doesn’t move.

He stays on his knees for a moment longer. Then, when he realizes he’s not going to get a response from her, he stands.

He looks at me, his eyes briefly flashing with hatred. I let the edges of my lip quirk as he mutters one last apology and walks out.

Elise stares at the phone. Then at me. “What the hell just happened?”

I lean back in my chair. “He won’t bother you again.”

“Oskar.”

I meet her eyes and squeeze her hand again. “You’re safe now.”

Her lip trembles. She grabs my hand tightly and lets out a shaky breath. 

“Is it really over?”

I stand up, take her hand and the phone, and lead her outside. Then, with all the strength I can muster, I smash the phone against the pavement and stomp on it till the pieces fly everywhere.  

Then I look at the princess, taking in the relief and awe shining in her glassy eyes, and say, “Now, it’s over.”