Prince Keith’s POV

The jarring screech of my wheelchair's wheels against the polished marble floor echoed in the suffocating silence of the corridor. I knew I had messed up terribly. Heather's face, etched with a pain I had inflicted, burned behind my eyelids. Her quiet anger, far more potent than any shouted word weighs in my chest. She never raised her voice, not at me, not ever and I, the supposed Prince, the man who claimed to care for her, had unleashed my frustration and misdirected ...