‘Push, Christina, push!’ he cooed. Outside he was chilling. Inside? He was having a secret massive heart attack. His wife could potentially die in the heat of the moment. A nurse approached him. ‘Your Majesty, I’d advise you to leave immediately. Your wife is about to have her baby.’ George looked horrified for a moment. Then he gathered himself and stood his ground. ‘No way!’ he said. The nurse almost looked disgusted. ‘Your wife is about to have a baby – we must be able to deliver the baby!’ King George shrugged. ‘So?’ the nurse sighed. ‘We must cut her stomach open and deliver the baby. Unless you want to see that, and making me lose my job by letting you stay you must go.’ George sighed. ‘Of course. Call me back tomorrow morning. Thank you.’ George left the room and walked down the majestic, unreal stairs. (Yes, they were very real.) ‘Brother.’ someone beckoned him from behind. ‘Sister.’ George didn’t turn around at all and continued to walk down. ‘How is Isabella? She must be very tired.’ George rolled his eyes and stopped. ‘Do you ever stop with the questions?’ he asked. He turned and wasn’t surprised to find his sister behind him. She stepped down a couple of steps so she was in line with her brother. She was breathtaking – the same afro hair was pulled up into a majestic beehive with a glittering tiara on top and then she had her yellow glittering gown and slippers. ‘Do you ever stop with that sarcasm?’ she shot back, snarking. ‘Miss Martian.’ George paused the busy woman bustling past. ‘Yes, sir? I am in a bit of a hurry. . .’ the young woman trailed off. ‘Sorry, but could you tell Cook I’d rather have dinner now? It’s getting late.’ the woman nodded and flew off. ‘So . . . when are you gonna hand over the kingdom?’ Grace looked at her brother, hands on hips. George glared at her. ‘Not until we die together. You know the rules.’ Grace laughed. ‘It’s sounds as if you are the dumb one now. Remember, I get the keys to the kingdom if your daughter does not want royal life.’ George groaned. ‘She will rule and so will I. If you want my kingdom so badly, kill me! Then take over my kingdom.’ Grace pretended to gag. ‘No way.’ she scurried off without saying a word. ‘Kill the King? How dreadful! I wasn’t going to do that at all!’ Grace said, examining the TNT bombs. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. When she had first hatched her evil plan, she’d set it that exact date. Just in a couple of hours, go bomb along with her niece and brother and sister in law. No one would suspect her. She’d been careful not to leave any trace behind, using her lace gloves (that’d been so surprisingly thick) for everything. ‘Urgh!’ she heard a shriek. Isabella’s.
‘Whatever.’ Grace flicked her hand. All she had to do was wake up at least two minutes till the bomb, take the newborn and put her on the nearest doorstep and gladly take the throne. It was as easy as that.
Grace woke by the sound of an alarm beeping. ‘5:23!’ Grace exclaimed quietly. She slipped on a comfy black hoodie and black tracksuit pants along with plain boots and shuddered. She’d be considered dead in these, since she had the gift of fashion style. She quietly slipped her phone in her pocket and sleuthed over to hospital/nursery/whatever they called it and stole the newborn sleeping soundly in the crib. She tore every piece of information that was on the baby off the baby girl and hacked into the account and deleted all information. ‘All done.’ Grace whispered. She pulled the hoodie down more so one one could identify her and then put the baby in her backpack and hooked on out of there and ran as fast as she could away from the palace, but still not far enough for the explosion. Puffing, but smiling, Grace looked at the building that was lit in fire. No one would be able to escape the fire. ‘Goodbye dear brother,’ she cackled. She swung off the backpack and laid the baby gently on a random doorstep. ‘And goodbye heir to the throne.’