The evening air is crisp, and the gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming roses. I sit in the garden, my fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass, savoring the rich taste. Esther had served me earlier, and for once, I allow myself to enjoy the silence.
My father is doing well at the hospital, and though the debt still looms over me like a shadow, I feel strangely calm.
The queen hasn't asked about my father. Cassian hasn't either. I should have expected that. They don't care, and I don't care that they don't care.
I was a fool to trust the queen's words. A fool to think this marriage would be anything but a transaction. I've already lost my job because of this ridiculous arrangement, but I won't sit around and waste away. I will rebuild myself, carve a future with my own hands.
I take another sip of my wine, letting it coat my tongue, when the low hum of an engine cuts through the evening stillness.
I frown.
The palace driveway is tightly secured, and every vehicle that enters belongs to the royal fleet. But this one? The sound is different. Lighter. Not one of theirs.
I set my glass down and rise, my instincts sharpening.
A car pulls into the courtyard, its headlights momentarily blinding. It's not sleek and expensive like the royal cars. It's simpler, older, with slight scratches on the door.
The guards move instantly, stepping forward to block the way, hands hovering over their weapons.
The car door opens.
A woman steps out.
She's young, possibly in her late twenties, dressed in a modest yet elegant gown. Her posture is composed, but there's tension in the way she clutches the small hand of the child beside her.
A boy.
About seven years old.
My breath stills as I take in his features. Dark hair, deep-set eyes that seem far too knowing for his age. He clings to the woman's side, his grip firm.
The guards exchange wary glances, uncertain.
The woman lifts her chin and speaks with quiet authority.
"I'm here to see Prince Cassian."
A shiver runs down my spine.
The guards hesitate before turning to me, waiting for my command.
My heart pounds.
Who is she?
And why is she looking for my husband?
The tension in the air thickens as the guards shift uncomfortably, waiting for my command. But before I can say a word, the sharp click of heels against the marble floor slices through the silence.
I turn.
The Queen.
She moves with effortless grace, yet her sharp gaze is locked onto the woman standing before me. Her expression, one I've come to recognize well, is a mixture of calculation and surprise.
"Liliana?" The name rolls off her tongue, laced with disbelief.
The woman, Liliana, lowers her head slightly in greeting. "Your Majesty."
Her voice is smooth, controlled. But there's something in the way she grips the child's hand that betrays her nerves.
The Queen's gaze flickers down to the boy, sharp as a dagger.
"Where have you been all this while?" Her voice is neutral, but there's an undertone I can't quite place.
Liliana doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she offers a small, polite smile. It's practiced - like someone used to keeping secrets.
The Queen's eyes narrow. "And this child?"
Liliana's smile doesn't falter, but she remains silent.
I glance at the boy, who clutches his mother's hand tightly, his dark eyes flickering between us, observing. There's something eerily familiar about him, but I can't put my finger on it.
The Queen exhales sharply, then turns on her heel. "Come, let's take a seat."
Without another word, she strides toward the palace entrance.
Liliana follows, keeping a firm hold on the child's hand, her shoulders squared. The guards hesitate before stepping aside, and one of them picks up her modest luggage.
I stand frozen as I watch the car that brought her disappear into the distance.
Who is she?
And why does the Queen look like she's just seen a ghost?
Later that night, as I sit at my table, the rich aroma of the evening meal wafting through my chambers, I know something is coming before it even happens.
The door creaks open, and in steps Esther, a covered tray balanced in her hands. But it's not the food that grabs my attention—it's the way she smiles.
A knowing smile.
I narrow my eyes. She's dying to tell me something. And I'm dying to know.
I don't waste time. "Who's Liliana?"
Esther freezes for half a second, then glances toward the door before stepping closer, lowering her voice.
"Liliana is the prince's ex-girlfriend," she whispers, eyes gleaming with excitement. "They were engaged. The Queen pushed for them to marry, but something happened… and Liliana left."
I stare at her, my mind racing. "Left?"
Esther nods. "Disappeared. Like, into thin air."
I let that sink in. A fiancée who vanished? And now she's back?
Something feels off.
I take a slow sip of water, keeping my expression neutral. "And the child?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
Esther's gaze darts around the room again before she leans in closer, lowering her voice even more.
"I heard her tell the Queen… it's Prince Cassian's child. His son."
I freeze.
A heavy silence settles in the room, pressing against my chest.
I tighten my grip on the glass in my hand, my thoughts spinning wildly.
Cassian has a son.
And no one thought to mention this before?
***
It takes less than twenty-four hours.
Liliana slips into the royal household as though she never left.
She's given a luxurious chamber right next to the queen's, a personal maid assigned to her, and within hours, she moves through the palace halls like she owns the place.
I remain in my chamber, stretched on my bed, scrolling through job listings on my phone. I need to get out of here. I can't rely on the queen's false promises anymore. This marriage was built on deceit, and I won't let it trap me.
Outside, the queen's voice rings through the corridors, full of excitement.
"She and the boy must have everything they need," she commands. "Make sure he is well taken care of."
I don't even need to see her face to know how pleased she is. Of course, she is. She finally got what she wanted; an heir.
And now? No one will breathe down my neck about pregnancy anymore. If anything, I'm more useless to them than ever.
Good. That makes it easier to leave.
A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. Esther steps inside, shutting the door behind her, her expression unreadable. She's my eyes and ears in this place.
I sit up, setting my phone aside. "What is it?"
She leans in, her voice a whisper. "Cassian saw Liliana in the Queen's private lounge."
I blink. "And?"
Esther glances around as if making sure no one is listening before continuing. "He was furious."
I frown. Cassian? Furious?
"He refused to acknowledge the child," Esther adds.
I straighten. What?
"He looked at the boy… and just walked away."
For the first time in a long while, I'm stunned.
Cassian, the arrogant, reckless prince… refusing to accept his own blood?
Something is off.
And I intend to find out what.