Alex didn’t find out the messages were leaked until his phone started exploding.

CNN alerts. Group chats. His sister pounding on his door.

And a headline that made his stomach drop.

PRIVATE TEXTS BETWEEN FIRST SON AND PRINCE GO VIRAL

He stared at the screen, heart racing.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

The worst part wasn’t the leak.

It was that Henry had gone completely silent.

⸻

Two days later.

Alex paced his room like a trapped animal.

“I don’t care what the palace says,” he snapped at his Secret Service agent. “They can’t just cut him off from me. That’s insane.”

Agent Harper kept his voice calm. “Sir, the Palace claims it’s for damage control.”

“Damage control my ass. He’s alone over there dealing with this shit storm and I can’t even text him.”

He grabbed his phone again. Still blocked.

Still nothing.

“I miss him,” Alex muttered, voice breaking. “This is torture.”

Harper watched him for a moment, then quietly left the room.

⸻

London was gray and silent.

Henry sat at the edge of his bed, staring at nothing.

His phone lay face down.

Confiscated. Monitored. Worthless.

“Your Royal Highness, you must eat,” Shaan said gently.

“I am not hungry.”

“You have not eaten in two days.”

Henry’s voice cracked. “I cannot even speak to him, Shaan. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

He swallowed hard.

“I wake up reaching for my phone like a bloody idiot.”

⸻

Three days later.

Agent Harper walked into Alex’s room with the determined energy of a man about to start a diplomatic incident.

“Sir. I made some calls.”

Alex looked up. “What kind of calls?”

“The kind that tell Buckingham Palace their prince looks like he’s about to collapse and that the First Son is about to start a press conference meltdown.”

Alex blinked. “You didn’t.”

Harper handed him a secured phone.

“They’re allowing one supervised call.”

Alex grabbed it like oxygen.

⸻

Henry stared at the phone Shaan handed him.

“Five minutes,” Shaan warned softly.

Henry answered before it could ring again.

“…Hello?”