LUKE FRIEDRICH
It's been a week now since I have returned back to Wimbledon and I can't say that things are back at normal in the palace. There is a thick tension that you actually need not a knife, but a saw to cut it. Right now I am at my work place in my office, trying to make up for the lost time I wasted in Waverly. It does feel good to be back, but it's sad, because I am not happy.
As I was sitting on my office chair, looking at the view outside the humongous window; I heard the door opening with someone walking straight in. I don't bother looking who it is, but instead, I complain about the guards letting people in without informing me first or knocking.
"I don't need permission to your office, son." Oh, it's the King-my father.
"Dad, is anything the matter?" I asked as I turn
