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His Majesty The King, Christopher Castellanos was a vile man. For someone born to rule a country, he had no morals. Behind that mask of a wise King that Christopher wore, lies the real monster, hidden. He\'d ruined many lives, crushing mercilessly under the heel of his polished, expensive boots, yet they remain untainted in the eyes of his subjects. 

What was Alexander Hunter made of if he could intimidate such monstrous evil King just with his rich voice? 

\'Only one word could define him to his true identity, the devil.\'

Alexander was the devil himself that ruled all the monstrous evil entities. 

Christopher still hadn\'t forgotten the insult Alexander threw at him sixteen years ago. He didn\'t even hesitate once before putting a dagger to his neck. He would\'ve slit it open and killed Christopher if Alastair hadn\'t interfered at the right time. 

"Chose, Alastair, your bastard of a father or me?" Alexander had asked his best friend, struggling through his gritted teeth to utter those words.. He was burning with fury. Always the dutiful son, Alastair didn\'t even blink before sacrificing their precious friendship. Alexander had looked so disappointed and defeated.

"If I ever come across this bastard again, I swear, Alastair, him being your father won\'t be reason enough for me not to kill him and this is his only chance at survival. And as for our friendship is concerned, mark my words, you\'ll come to me, Alastair, begging for my forgiveness," Alexander had sworn that day before leaving Christopher\'s mansion. 

Christopher scoffed in disdain, remembering Mariana\'s defeated face as Alexander wrapped his hand around her wrist and dragged her away, out of their sight and out of their lives. That woman dared to assume she could give birth to that curse of a child and ruin his royal bloodline. 

He would rather bury his entire bloodline than letting anyone corrupt the purity of his genes. Hence killing that illegitimate child was an easy decision to make. 

His derision extended to his second-born, Johnathan. He couldn\'t even complete one, simple task of kidnapping and killing an infant. His son turned out to be all bark and no bite. Christopher waited for years to get confirmation on the child\'s death. When Alexander spoke to him fifteen years ago, he had said it with such conviction that he almost believed the cursed baby might have survived. 

"She\'s Alexander\'s daughter, Christopher. That\'s reason enough for whoever has taken her not to kill her. She\'s the only shield protecting them from my wrath right now. They know if they kill her, they could lose their only chance of surviving death. It might take days, or months, or even years, but I\'ll find her," Alexander had barked furiously. 

He was glad that Alexander never once visited him after Alastair cut off his friendship with him. Nothing would\'ve stopped him from killing Christopher if they faced each other directly. Phone calls had been their only way of communication. 

His idiotic son signed his own death sentence when he fired a bullet at Felicity. Christopher had to resort to begging to save him and keep him alive. "One last chance, Alexander. Spare his life for Alastair\'s sake," he\'d said. Very cunningly he\'d played the perfect role of a defeated, helpless father, but to his disappointment, nothing had worked in his favour. 

Alexander had only one weakness, his wife, Felicity, and he wasn\'t ready to compromise. Christopher knew, if Felicity died, he would never let Johnathan live another day more. 

Alastair didn\'t know about Mariana\'s pregnancy, and the King used it to his advantage. He had blackmailed Alexander with Mariana\'s child. 

"If you touch Johnathan, I\'ll reveal Mariana\'s secret to Alastair. Think about it, Alexander, will he survive your betrayal? Do you think he\'ll ever forgive you if I tell him how you and Mariana stabbed him in the back?" Christopher had asked rhetorically. He knew he\'d won. 

Yet another phone call from Alexander that he received a day ago triggered the past episodes, and Christopher was still not over that fear. 

Christopher couldn\'t resist the terrorising shiver that ran over his form, chilling him to the bones. His veins popped out, underlining his skin along with the goose bumps standing to their full attention. He could still hear the thundering anger that laced around Alexander\'s deep voice. 

"I won\'t even give you a chance to beg for your pathetic son\'s life the next time I get a hold of him, Christopher," that\'s how Alexander greeted him over the phone.

It\'d been years since Christopher last heard Alexander\'s voice, but he could still recognise it immediately. His own deep, authoritative voice that he uttered a hello with so much confidence died down in his throat sinking below his guts as soon as he heard him. 

Christopher knew then that his useless excuse of a son had broken the truce. Alexander had given his word to spare Johnathan\'s life until he trespassed his territory. 

A knock on the door put an end to his train of thoughts and his secretary peeked in before informing him of someone\'s arrival, the detective with his loyalty dedicated to the royal family of Castellanos throughout his life. A fifty plus aged man with a regular height, a thin body, clad in a three-piece brown suit entered upon his permission. He removed his beret hat, revealing his bald head before bowing to pay his respect. "Your Majesty," he greeted.

"Take your seat, Nicos. You surprised me every time with how you\'ve maintained your personality. I still don\'t see your pot belly," he attempted to joke and gave him a welcoming smile. The detective nodded in acknowledgement. "At your service, Your Majesty," he said, taking a seat. Nicos knew the King too well to expect any more hospitality than that, and they dived straight into business. 

The detective submitted his report about Johnathan\'s recent travelling destinations. He\'d visited California and stayed for a day in a cheap hotel in the city of Lake Elsinore. By cheap hotel, he meant it was a three-star hotel, too low for their royal status. He didn\'t leave the hotel until it was time to leave the country again, but the detective suspected his right-hand man Rouvin visited someone outside the hotel. Unfortunately, the man was too clever to leave any clues behind. Nicos couldn\'t find out the reason for their visit to California. 

Though Christopher was disappointed, he didn\'t show it because he knew Nicos was the best at his job and if Rouvin managed to outsmart him, he deserved appreciation for his intelligence. 

Jonathan had then visited London and stayed there for two days and two nights in a hotel, at Kensington. Nicos didn\'t find anything suspicious, other than how Johnathan left in the middle of the night. He was in a hurry to leave the country as if running away from something or someone. 

Christopher shook his head. "No, Nicos, something is not adding up. Alexander said John was in his territory and had his men secretly follow his son around. If John didn\'t visit New York, then how did he break the truce? Where did Johnathan meet Alexander\'s son? I need answers, Nicos," he said, lifting the glass of water to his mouth. He felt so frustrated he wanted to smash the glass on the nearest wall or break his table into pieces. 

But showing his weakness or helplessness out to someone inferior to him would tarnish his reputation. Moreover, the luxurious classic royal furniture held more worth than Alexander\'s life in his eyes. He grimaced at that very name, Alexander. 

"There must be someone or something that required Johnathan\'s visit. Otherwise, why would he go there, Nicos?" He asked, rubbing his chin with the back of his fingers. Nicos shrugged in response before he spoke. "He visited a boarding school in London. Probably to offer donations or sponsor someone\'s education. His Highness never backed out from charity, after all, he\'s known for his generous heart," Nicos said with an admiring smile. 

The King pushed his royal executive swivel armchair, the wheels spinning smoothly on the spotless, shiny marbles, the brown, smooth leather filling up the creases, flexing back to its original shape as he abandoned the chair and walked to the windows. The combination of white and cream curtains drawn aside exposed the sunlight into the spacious office through the massive glass windows. 

One hand resting inside the pocket of his trousers, the fingers of his other hand rapped against the glass window, while Christopher glanced out. 

He smiled, a combination of a cunning and wry smile. He couldn\'t wait to explore and exploit Alexander\'s weakness against him. 

"If John was near the vicinity of Alexander\'s son, then it could mean only one thing. His son is either in California or in England. Search, Nicos, search every corner of these two countries. I need something to hold against that devil. Bring me the whereabouts of his boy, Nicos," Christopher roared as he couldn\'t hide his frustration anymore. He was tired of constantly losing against Alexander. He needed a solid anchor to bring him down for once at least. 

"Find out where that boy is studying. You could start by paying a visit to that boarding school you mentioned," Christopher commanded.