[Edward's POV]
Pepper's friend — Trent Grimm, the reporter — released the newspaper article the next day.
I picked up the newspaper and began reading. There was a casual photo of me on the front page, something Trent had taken the day before: me in casual clothes, sitting in front of the mantle.
{ THE INDEPENDENT – SPECIAL FEATURE}
Sir Edward Newgate: The Reluctant Artist Who Changed Modern Medicine
By Trent Grimm
LONDON — Yesterday, news from Buckingham Palace shook the country. Edward Newgate, the man who holds the record for the greatest number of albums sold, was formally knighted by His Majesty the King for "extraordinary contributions to medical science and humanitarian service" — rather than for his music.
The award, given sparingly to scientists in the last century, marks a pinnacle in the career of a man whose work has already saved millions worldwide, through both his music and his medicine.
Newgate is best known for pioneering effective cures for HIV and Type 1 diabetes — medical feats that until recently were deemed impossible.
But his research had far-reaching consequences beyond these headline achievements. By targeting the immune and endocrine systems at their roots, his therapies have yielded breakthroughs for diseases long linked to these conditions: Kaposi's sarcoma, cytomegalovirus infections, chronic pancreatitis, and certain forms of autoimmune hepatitis.
Hospitals across the globe report drastic declines in HIV-related opportunistic infections and diabetes-related amputations since Newgate's treatments became available.
The entire country waits excitedly for the man to receive his honor.
A Man Unmoved by Opulence
If you ask Pepper Saltzman — Newgate's long-time associate — the knighthood celebration could have been the most extravagant party London had ever seen.
Saltzman was reportedly planning a budget in excess of five million dollars, complete with a private orchestra and imported floral installations.
But as I learned firsthand, Edward Newgate is a man resistant to excess.
When I visited his home the day after the ceremony, I overheard a good-natured but pointed negotiation between him and Saltzman.
"You want to spend over five million on the party," Newgate said, leaning back in his chair. "That's insane, Pepper. Do you know how many people we could help with that kind of money?"
Newgate would rather use his money for the good of humankind than have an extra lavish party.
Saltzman pointed out that Newgate had held lavish parties before, but was countered by Newgate's stepmother, who explained he only did that for employee morale — never for himself.
Eventually, they settled on a compromise, with the remaining budget donated to charity.
I had intended to approach the scientist cautiously — after all, many public figures bristle when they realize a journalist has overheard private conversations. Newgate was startled when he saw me, and I expected to be kicked out for eavesdropping.
Instead, Newgate greeted me warmly, listened intently to my questions, and showed no irritation.
That conversation confirmed what the knighthood could only hint at: this is a man to whom titles and celebrations matter far less than tangible help for others.
The Interview
Over tea, I asked Newgate about the road that led to his first great discovery — the cure for diabetes.
"I started my research after my dad was diagnosed with liver cirrhosis," he explained, a hint of melancholy in his expression. "That led me into stem cell research, which in turn helped with the diabetes treatment."
When I asked why he turned next to HIV, his first answer was a joke: "Is long hours of working with a hot lab assistant a good enough reason?" — but he quickly became serious.
"I tried to anchor myself to reality so I wouldn't lose myself in fame or the luxury that comes with wealth," he said.
Pressed further, he explained how he had anchored himself over the years.
"I visited children's hospitals a lot. I lost many friends I'd met there, as they succumbed to their conditions."
"I wanted to help them — so I started researching more into incurable diseases. I guess I was doing it for them."
His matter-of-fact delivery made the sentiment all the more striking. There was no trace of self-congratulation or calculated soundbite. The words were simply true.
He also seemed to blame himself for taking too long to achieve it. The 17-year-old boy seemed to carry the burden of saving the world on his shoulders — even after multiple assassination attempts aimed at forcing him to back down.
We all knew how many times he had been targeted over the years.
Looking Ahead
When pressed on what comes next, Newgate hesitated, then admitted:
"I've decided to just go with the flow for now. I don't really have any plans. Many people hope I'll cure cancer or another disease next. I am doing research on it — but even with the AIDS cure, it took over two years before I had a breakthrough. I've only just started, so it'll take time."
For the millions already living longer, healthier lives because of him, time is something Newgate has given back in abundance.
Whether his next great discovery arrives in two years or twenty, the world will wait — and watch — for what Sir Edward Newgate does next.
The reception for his party would be held at XX Hotel in London after the knighting ceremony.
— End article —
"Hmm? Why did he leak the address for the party?" Maggie asked as she read the same article.
"I don't know. But I'm not liking this." I sighed, then continued to read the other articles in the paper. "Oh, there's a Ricky Gervais show. Want to go there with Amy?"
Maggie replied, "Sure."
We went to see the show that evening. The Dunphys, Mitch and Cam, and also Gloria and Jay were busy sightseeing, so they missed the show even though I had invited them.
Thankfully, there's another one tomorrow, and we could go after my knighthood ceremony.
By the time we returned home, Pepper was at the house, beaming as he sipped his tea.
"Edward, wonderful news. I can keep the budget down to about 25,000," he said.
"Huh? Well, that's great," I said noncommittally.
Maggie walked to Pepper and said pitifully, "It's okay, Pepper. I know you've done your best."
"I tried my best," Pepper snarked before adding, "I picked up phone calls all day from people who wanted to sponsor the party."
"What?" I grimaced.
Pepper grinned. "The article made a lot of people call the hotel, and they wanted to contribute. You can't even reject it—there are royal families in the mix."
"Wait, royal families?" Amy was astonished.
"Yes! Royal families all over Europe. Even the king whose princess lost her virginity to Edward is trying to sponsor the event."
"YOU DID WHAT?!" Amy and Maggie turned toward me in shock.
I looked at Pepper with a deadpan expression. "Do you really have to mention that?"
"Sorry. I forgot about the NDA for a second." Pepper waved it off and added nervously, "You girls didn't hear anything, okay!?"
Alex called me later that night and fumed, "Hot assistant? Are you referring to me? Do you want to die!? Everyone knows I'm your assistant, now my instagram page is blowing up!"
I cackled at Alex's misery. That day, my dad and I went to see my new football club– Newcastle football team at their stadium.
My dad pursed his lips and said, "I think American football is better."
"Well, five billion people will disagree with you." I said teasingly.
I only did a short meet and greet with the managers and the players for now. They understood the reason why as they too knew about the Knighthood ceremony.
Many of them were elated to see I became the owner of the football club– mostly the managers, coaches and the workers, but some players had a reluctant look on their faces.
When I told them about my hands off policy, they reacted slightly better to the news.
…
The Knighthood ceremony began. I walked forward on the crimson carpet and knelt before the Queen of England in the Ballroom of Buckingham Palace.
The Master of the Household stood nearby, reading aloud the formal citation of my achievements.
When the words faded, the Queen—dressed in a pale blue gown with her diamond brooch glinting in the light—lifted the ceremonial sword. The cold steel tapped my right shoulder, then my left.
"In recognition of your distinguished service," she said in her gentle but commanding voice, "we are pleased to admit you as an Honorary Knight of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire. Arise, Sir Edward."
The entire area around Buckingham Palace was crowded with onlookers, as people pressed against the gates to catch a glimpse. Like every royal occasion, it had a gravity that drew the world's eyes.
Polite applause filled the room—reserved, measured, in the dignified way such ceremonies demanded. My "old lady killer" aura was in full swing, and I could swear the Queen's smile lingered a little longer when she met my gaze.
The affectionate, kind, warm smile that a grandmother usually has when they look at their grandchildren.
"Do join us for tea next month at the palace," she added quietly as we shook hands. An invitation not given lightly.
Somewhere in the crowd, my grandmother clutched her pearls, her face radiant—she had finally met the Queen, fulfilling the dream of her lifetime.
The ceremony ended with a short procession into the palace reception room. There was a brief gathering there before my actual party.
This was when my grandmother actually managed to speak with the Queen.
"My goodness, Sir Edward. You're my knight in shining armor," Alex said sarcastically, clasping her hands on her shoulder and tilting her head against them.
"Shhh—Alex, are you crazy?!" Claire immediately stopped her from mocking me, especially with the royal family looking in our direction. All three of us smiled politely as they walked away from the center of the party.
"Alex, you almost got yourself arrested," I said seriously, though I was teasing inwardly.
Alex's face went pale. "I'm just joking. Besides, my words were fine."
Claire interjected, "But the tone wasn't. Everyone could sense the sarcasm—it was practically dripping out of your mouth."
I chuckled while Alex grumbled.
"Don't worry. This stuffy party won't last long. You can continue whatever you were going to say later at the hotel." I patted her head reassuringly.
Alex froze, eyes wide, while Claire was stunned by the charged glances between us.
[Claire's commentary.]
"Wait—what!? Is this a thing now? How long has this been going on?!"
She gasped. "Is this how he broke up with his girlfriend?"
[Commentary ended]
I picked a stray thread from Alex's hair and showed it to her. She rolled her eyes, and Claire finally relaxed.
"By the way, Ed, your ex isn't coming to the party?" Claire asked, changing the subject.
My smile faded instantly, and I sighed. "Yeah. She's not coming. I even threatened to sleep with her younger sister if she didn't, but it was useless."
"Maybe it's because you said you were going to sleep with her sister," Alex replied, giving me a look of disbelief. "Don't go after your ex's sisters. It's unseemly." She warned me—maybe warning herself too.
I had called Vanessa yesterday, but she said she had a recording session. She was working hard on her own song, and since she knew this event wasn't really important to me, she opted to stay in L.A.
Also, Maggie had told her about the plane that would take her to orbit, so she definitely didn't want to come to London right now.
We finally moved to the hotel for the party. The crowd applauded as I entered the ballroom with my family, showering me with flower petals.
I grimaced at the sight, slightly uncomfortable. I couldn't wait for the day to be over so I could actually do something meaningful.
…
"So, how does it feel to become a knight?" Emilia Clarke asked as she came to the party. I had been talking with Elton John, and she approached after he left.
"Honestly, it doesn't feel any different. Maybe because my country has no monarchy, getting a knighthood didn't feel that special. Maybe if I got a Duke title, then I might feel something." I joked.
Emilia gasped and said playfully, "Jumping straight to Duke? Wow. You know that means you have to marry a royal family member?"
"Well, the prince kept shooting me looks earlier," I joked back, making Emilia burst into laughter.
Emma Watson suddenly approached, and Emilia's laughter faded. Emma smiled politely before saying, "I'm sorry to do this, but can I steal him for a bit? I need to talk to him in private."
"No, not at all. We were just joking around," Emilia said, waving it off.
I frowned. "Shouldn't you ask me instead of her?"
"Edward, be nice. You're a knight now. You have to be a gentleman to a lady—it's in your code of chivalry," Emilia teased.
I widened my eyes. "Wait. Really? I didn't read that before I took the title. That's entrapment, right?"
She just laughed and walked away after nodding politely to Emma.
My smile vanished as I looked at Emma, who wore a tight-fitting black dress with a high slit.
"Well, you should already know what I want to talk about, so let's make this quick," Emma said, trying to sound confident.
"You never called me after that day."
"Did I ever call you the day before that?" I said with a disdainful smirk.
Emma hesitated but pressed on.
"I told you I like you. You could at least have called. I've been anxious these past few days, waiting."
I sighed and nodded. "You're right. I was rude. I should've called you right away back then."
Her face lit with expectation. "You were going to call?"
"Yeah. I was going to tell you I don't share the same feeling."
Her expression froze. "What?"
"I don't like you," I said plainly.
"B–But you're single," she muttered, confused.
"So what if I'm single? That doesn't mean I'll make just anyone my girlfriend."
"J–Just anyone?!" Emma was flabbergasted.
I left her to process it.
"AH!" she gasped, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.
A waitress approached. "Champagne for the lady?"
"Thank you." She grabbed two of the glasses, and before the waitress could leave, she told her, "Wait."
She downed two cups of champagne quickly and took another two from the tray. It seemed that she wanted to have something to drink to forget.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and sounds came from the simple stage located at the end of the party.
"Hello, everyone! It's me, Elton John!" The musician greeted the crowd into the microphone, sending a ripple of cheers through the room.
"I was meant to sing at this party—proper job, booked and all that. But, let's be honest, the man of the hour here likes to splash the cash."
He grinned and continued, "I've been following his career from the very start, actually. First time I saw this kid on telly, I thought, 'That one's going to be massive.' And here we are."
Applause broke out again.
"It's incredible what he's done in just three years. You know, Edward—when you got kidnapped the first time, I nearly keeled over. Second time? Nearly did it again. Third time—well, let's not have a third, darling. My heart's only got so many lives left."
Everyone burst out laughing. Elton chuckled along with them.
He told the crowd he was still going to perform as a special way of celebrating my achievement—not the knighthood, but curing HIV.
He prepared a medley and waved me up onto the stage.
"Be honest— you do know my songs, don't you? Because if you don't, I'm going to look like a complete prat," Elton teased.
We had already run through the set list during a quick chat earlier. The plan was: he'd sing his songs first, I'd come in for the second verse, and he'd return the favor on my tracks.
[I'm Still Standing– Elton John]
As the intro was played, Elton became quite emotional and said, "You know Edward? Whenever I saw the news that you were assassinated and still survive, these songs kept ringing in my mind."
I corrected him, "Attempted assasination."
Everyone laughed, even him.
Elton sang the first verse.
"♫♪ You could never know what it's like
Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice
And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you
You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use ♫♪"
Phil commented, "Oh my god. This song really suits Edward?"
Claire couldn't close her mouth. "I've never made the connection before. I really do!"
"♫♪ And did you think this fool could never win?
Well, look at me, I'm a-comin' back again
I got a taste of love in a simple way
And if you need to know while I'm still standin', you just fade away ♫♪"
Emma kept downing her champagne, looking at me with furious eyes.
" ♫♪ Don't you know, I'm still standin' better than I ever did?
Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like a little kid♫♪"
"♫♪ And I'm still standin' after all this time
Pickin' up the pieces of my life without you on my mind ♫♪ "
"♫♪ I'm still standin' (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm still standin' (Yeah, yeah, yeah)♫♪"
I picked up an electric guitar.
"Edward, you're up!" Elton John said excitedly. I walked to the standing microphone next to me and played the guitar while singing.
" ♫♪ Once, I never coulda hoped to win
You're startin' down the road, leavin' me again
The threats you made were meant to cut me down
And if our love was just a circus, you'd be a clown by now ♫♪"
Emma gasped, offended. "He looked right at me when he said clown didn't he?"
Daniel Radcliffe who came with her looked at her worriedly and said, "Don't you think you have had enough to drink?"
"Bugger off." Emma cursed.
" ♫♪ You know, I'm still standin' better than I ever did
Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like a little kid
And I'm still standin' after all this time
Pickin' up the pieces of my life without you on my mind ♫♪"
My dad slightly tapped his fingers to the song and then he noticed Frankie was standing real still.
He tapped her shoulder and asked, "Frankie, is something wrong?"
"No… It's just that survivor line…" Suddenly, Frankie's chin quivered and she broke into tears. "I just think it's really sad." She sobbed.
My dad was startled to see her reaction. Gloria, who was nearby, told my dad, "Pregnancy hormones. It will make a woman go crazy."
" ♫♪ I'm still standin' (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm still standin' (Yeah, yeah, yeah) ♫♪"
I strummed the guitar solo, which made a lot of the girls swoon.
Elton and I sang together for the last part.
"♫♪ Don't you know that I'm still standin' better than I ever did?
Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like a little kid
And I'm still standin' after all this time
Pickin' up the pieces of my life without you on my mind ♫♪"
"♫♪ I'm still standin' (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm still standin' (Yeah, yeah, yeah) ♫♪"
A thunderous cheer shook the ballroom. We proceeded to sing Rocketman, and 7 years afterward.
When the final chord rang out, the emcee stepped forward with a bright smile.
"And now," he announced, "we'd like to invite someone very special to say a few words on behalf of the United Nations."
"Without further ado… Miss Emma Watson."
The crowd went silent, turning toward the far side of the room. That's when I spotted her—making her way up from the banquet tables, a half-finished glass of champagne in hand.
"Oh, this does not look good." I commented. I didn't know she would speak at the party today, otherwise I would've waited a bit longer before rejecting her.
Emma wobbled slightly on her heels, her cheeks flushed red. She waved to the audience with a warm, slightly delayed smile, as though the gesture had to catch up with her body.
"Th-thank you…" she said to no one in particular as she passed Elton, who gave her an amused eyebrow raise.
"Are you alright Darling? You look drunk." Elton asked with concern.
Emma waved him off, saying, "I'm okay."
Elton sighed and then walked away.
Halfway to the stage stairs, she stopped, glanced down at her drink, and—perhaps deciding it was in the way—knocked the rest back in one quick gulp.
She handed the empty glass to a startled waiter without breaking stride, then climbed onto the stage with an exaggerated "whoop" that set a ripple of laughter through the crowd.
She stepped up to the podium, blinking at the bright stage lights, and accepted the papers the emcee had left for her.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" she began, drawing out the words as she squinted at the text. "We… we are gathered here tonight to celebrate a… groundbreaking achievement in medical science. The, uh…" She paused, holding the paper closer to her face. "…successful trials of an HIV cure, which will—"
Emma suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes flicked from the page to me in the crowd, narrowing dangerously.
"…You know what? I can't read this," she declared, tossing the speech onto the podium. "And I don't want to. Edward is a jerk. A real bloody jerk—"
The next word that came out of her mouth made the entire ballroom freeze. Somewhere in the front row, a duchess audibly gasped. One of the royal guards shifted in his seat. Cameras flashed like lightning.
"Oh god! Someone stop her!" Daniel said hurriedly.
"Screw You Newgate! I can be anyone's girlfriend! Fuck you!"
I burst out in laughter until my stomach hurts. Daniel quickly pulled Emma out of the podium and apologized to everyone.
By morning, every tabloid from London to Los Angeles had the headline: Emma Watson Drops F-Bomb in Front of Royal Family During UN Speech.