A/N: I don't own the characters of the Selection. I have most of the rest of this story written! I will try and upload a new chapter every few days. Also read my other story, The One: Unbroken

America stood in the middle of the stage. I could feel my face harden, tucking my emotions away. This could not be happening. The girl I loved was about to destroy me. My father stormed over to her, yelling about the diary.

"Father, stop!" I jogged up to them, my heart pounding. The girls were all watching, terrified. I needed to get control of this.

"Where did she get this? Answer me!"

I confessed, warily, trying to protect us both from his wrath. "From me. We were looking up what Halloween was. He wrote about it in the diaries, and I thought she'd like to read more."

"You idiot," he spat. "I knew I should have made you read these sooner. You're completely lost. You have no clue of the duty you have! She leaves tonight. I've had enough of her."

My heart plummeted. I wanted to scream at her, hug her, hold her, never let her go. Why, America? I knew it wasn't her fault, she didn't understand my plans. I had been contemplating the castes since she had arrived, but this was not the way to go about changing anything! What did she think was going to happen?

"You can't send her home. That's my choice, and I say she stays," I responded, trying to remain calm. I didn't want him to know how truly important she was, for fear he would use that information against me.

"Maxon Calix Schreave, I am the king of Illéa, and I say—"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Could you stop being the king for five minutes and just be my father?" This was going downhill fast, but I needed him to see reason, to see his son standing here. "This is my choice. You got to make yours, and I want to make mine. No one else is leaving without my say so!"

"Amberly, take this back to where it belongs," he said, shoving the book in her hand. She stood there, nodding her head but not moving. "Maxon, I need to see you in my office."

It was then the panic engulfed me. Years of conditioning had taught me that nothing good could happen after hearing those words. Thinking of standing in his office... leaning against the chair... the pain... I looked at the source of this problem. Beautiful, America. The truth is, I'd forgiven everything she'd done and everything she could do long before today. She had no idea what she was doing to me.

"Or," my father continued, "I could simply talk to her." He gestured over to America.

I felt my heart stop. "No," I said quickly, trying to hold back my fear and fury. I felt my mistake, he had figured out her importance to me. But her pain was too much to bear. "That won't be necessary. Ladies," I said, turning to the girls, keeping my voice calm, "why don't you all head upstairs? We'll have dinner sent to you tonight." I paused, looking towards the woman I loved, knowing how much this was going to hurt her. "America, maybe you should go ahead and collect your things. Just in case."

Her face was shocked, unreadable.

My father smiled, and I could see his satisfaction, he knew he would break me. "Excellent idea. After you, son."