The sky above the palace bled into a melancholic gray, the sun hiding behind thick clouds as though mourning with the king. The royal garden, once Daniela’s favorite place, stood untended. Wildflowers grew in stubborn defiance through cracks in the once manicured paths. The scent of blooming hibiscus clashed with the scent of time—that old, dusty silence that lingered in places where laughter had died.King Alexander stood still on the palace balcony, arms crossed behind his back, cloaked in heavy velvet. He wasn't the same man he was two years ago. The weight of loss had carved lines into his once-youthful face. His shoulders drooped beneath invisible burdens. Power still clothed him, yes, but it no longer fitted him like pride—it clung to him like grief.His eyes scanned the horizon—the same trail Daniela had once fled down with the child. The same trail the guards had failed to watch. His jaw clenched at the memory.Every now and then, he imagined seeing her figure walking back, ch
The palace air brimmed with anticipation, thick like a brewing storm. Inside the grand hall, the scent of burning incense drifted from gold-plated bowls, curling in the air like whispers from the ancestors. Soft drums echoed in the background, played by two palace boys, steady and ceremonial. The marble floors had been scrubbed to glass-like shine, reflecting the rows of candles burning along the corridor.Alexander sat on the throne, robed in deep crimson, his royal crown resting heavy on his head. His face was unreadable—a mask of calm, yet behind his eyes, something stirred. Pain. Memory. Resignation. This was not how he envisioned choosing a queen.Beside him, a guard stood silently, holding a scroll with the names of the maidens. The chamberlain motioned, and the doors opened.One by one, the virgins began to enter.The first maiden, Awele, stepped forward with her head lowered, her feet bare, anklets chiming with each timid step. She was beautiful—smooth dark skin, full lips, an
The early morning sun filtered through the intricate lattice windows of the palace, casting golden shapes across the polished floors. Drums beat faintly in the distance, signaling the dawn of a new day—and a new queen.Chisom sat quietly on the edge of a carved mahogany bed, her feet barely touching the polished ground. Around her, the royal maids fluttered like bees, tying her hair into delicate loops, rubbing her arms with perfumed oil, and whispering instructions she barely absorbed.“Your new robe, my queen,” one of the maids said, presenting a cloth woven with silver threads and royal blue patterns. “You must wear it before you greet the king.”Chisom nodded faintly, still unsure how to wear the title of "queen" in her heart. The palace air was thick—not just with incense, but with the weight of expectation. She could feel it in the walls, in the eyes of the elders who measured her with unspoken judgment, and in the stiff bow of the guards who had served another before her.As sh
The morning sun filtered through the bright white curtains of their new apartment, casting golden rays across the hardwood floor. Lydia stirred beneath the duvet, her hand instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed.Empty.She blinked, sat up, and glanced around. The soft scent of brewed coffee and toasted bread teased her nose. A smile curled on her lips.He’s in the kitchen again.Throwing on a light robe, she padded down the hallway and into the warm, open space where Gabriel stood shirtless, wearing joggers and flipping pancakes with an exaggerated chef’s flair.“You’re going to burn them,” Lydia teased, leaning against the doorframe.Gabriel turned, spatula in hand, and grinned. “And good morning to my beautiful wife.”She walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “Good morning, chef husband.”He kissed the top of her head, then plated a stack of fluffy pancakes. “I thought we could eat on the balcony today. The sun’s not too harsh yet.”They
The palace was quieter these days—too quiet for a man who once ruled with noise, power, and pride. Alexander sat by his window, fingers toying with a half-filled goblet of wine. Outside, the moonlight brushed the edges of the thatched palace roof, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. Chisom had long drifted to sleep, her breathing soft, steady. But Alexander was wide awake—again.It had been six moons since she was brought to him, her skin soft as silk, her smile gentle, her body yielding. Each night, she came to his bed, and each night, he held hope in his loins and in his heart. But morning always came with the same bitter emptiness. No signs. No whispers of cravings. No swelling belly. No child.He had tried everything—spiced roots, fertility herbs from the palace medicine woman, and even late-night rituals performed by the native priest. Still… nothing.Alexander rose from the bed, pacing the cold marble floor with heavy feet. A fire burned in the hearth, but it did little to tha
The palace was quiet—too quiet. Even the birds that usually fluttered outside the grand windows of the king’s chamber were absent, as if nature itself mourned the weariness of the man within.Alexander sat on the edge of his bed, the heavy robe of royalty pooling around him like a shroud. The golden crown, once proudly perched upon his head, now lay abandoned on the floor, its polished surface reflecting nothing but a broken legacy.He had sent the servants away hours ago, requesting solitude. But truth be told, he had been alone for far longer than that—ever since Daniela left, ever since the boy vanished. Ever since he traded his humanity for power.The voices from the past echoed relentlessly in his mind."You want her to be queen? There is a way…""Put this powder in her drink. It will cloud her mind and draw her to you.""Rub this oil on your palms before you touch her—she will not resist.""You must act fast. The elders are watching. You need an heir."At the time, it all seemed
Daniela stood in the grand lobby of a four-star hotel, the air thick with the scent of wealth and exclusivity. Marble floors gleamed beneath Crystal chandeliers, reflecting a world she had once dreamed of but had long since left behind . Her fingers trembled as she clung a folder with the DNA test results that showed proof of the truth she had kept hidden all these years . She wasn't here to admire the opulence, nor was she the same woman who had once been captivated, then cast aside by a billionaire. Today, she was here to confront Alexander Dane.She had rehearsed this moment countless times in her mind, but nothing prepared her for the sight of him stepping into the room. Alexander Dane . The man she once loved , who single handedly tore her family apart with a ruthless business takeover. She hadn't seen him in five years, he knew nothing about her or her whereabouts . Yet ,he looked exactly as she remembered, lean and tall ,dressed in a dark, tailored suit t
The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with unspoken questions and tensions.The air between them seemed charged, every second stretching into an eternity as Alexander stared at her,his mind working overtime to process her revelation . Daniela's chest tightened under his penetrating gaze, and goosebumps prickled her arms despite the heat of her anger.“ But how?” he finally managed, his voice rough, strained.” We used protection that night. How could this child ….. How is he mine?” Her knuckles turned white as the weight of the moment bore down on her. She could see the storm brewing in her eyes- confusion, denial , and something else she couldn't quite place. A part of her wanted to lash out at him for questioning her, for doubting the existence of their child. But she knew it was pointless.She had her share of guilt to bear for keeping the truth from him all these years. Taking a step closer, she steadied herself, her voice soft but firm.“ The child is yours ,
The palace was quiet—too quiet. Even the birds that usually fluttered outside the grand windows of the king’s chamber were absent, as if nature itself mourned the weariness of the man within.Alexander sat on the edge of his bed, the heavy robe of royalty pooling around him like a shroud. The golden crown, once proudly perched upon his head, now lay abandoned on the floor, its polished surface reflecting nothing but a broken legacy.He had sent the servants away hours ago, requesting solitude. But truth be told, he had been alone for far longer than that—ever since Daniela left, ever since the boy vanished. Ever since he traded his humanity for power.The voices from the past echoed relentlessly in his mind."You want her to be queen? There is a way…""Put this powder in her drink. It will cloud her mind and draw her to you.""Rub this oil on your palms before you touch her—she will not resist.""You must act fast. The elders are watching. You need an heir."At the time, it all seemed
The palace was quieter these days—too quiet for a man who once ruled with noise, power, and pride. Alexander sat by his window, fingers toying with a half-filled goblet of wine. Outside, the moonlight brushed the edges of the thatched palace roof, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. Chisom had long drifted to sleep, her breathing soft, steady. But Alexander was wide awake—again.It had been six moons since she was brought to him, her skin soft as silk, her smile gentle, her body yielding. Each night, she came to his bed, and each night, he held hope in his loins and in his heart. But morning always came with the same bitter emptiness. No signs. No whispers of cravings. No swelling belly. No child.He had tried everything—spiced roots, fertility herbs from the palace medicine woman, and even late-night rituals performed by the native priest. Still… nothing.Alexander rose from the bed, pacing the cold marble floor with heavy feet. A fire burned in the hearth, but it did little to tha
The morning sun filtered through the bright white curtains of their new apartment, casting golden rays across the hardwood floor. Lydia stirred beneath the duvet, her hand instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed.Empty.She blinked, sat up, and glanced around. The soft scent of brewed coffee and toasted bread teased her nose. A smile curled on her lips.He’s in the kitchen again.Throwing on a light robe, she padded down the hallway and into the warm, open space where Gabriel stood shirtless, wearing joggers and flipping pancakes with an exaggerated chef’s flair.“You’re going to burn them,” Lydia teased, leaning against the doorframe.Gabriel turned, spatula in hand, and grinned. “And good morning to my beautiful wife.”She walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “Good morning, chef husband.”He kissed the top of her head, then plated a stack of fluffy pancakes. “I thought we could eat on the balcony today. The sun’s not too harsh yet.”They
The early morning sun filtered through the intricate lattice windows of the palace, casting golden shapes across the polished floors. Drums beat faintly in the distance, signaling the dawn of a new day—and a new queen.Chisom sat quietly on the edge of a carved mahogany bed, her feet barely touching the polished ground. Around her, the royal maids fluttered like bees, tying her hair into delicate loops, rubbing her arms with perfumed oil, and whispering instructions she barely absorbed.“Your new robe, my queen,” one of the maids said, presenting a cloth woven with silver threads and royal blue patterns. “You must wear it before you greet the king.”Chisom nodded faintly, still unsure how to wear the title of "queen" in her heart. The palace air was thick—not just with incense, but with the weight of expectation. She could feel it in the walls, in the eyes of the elders who measured her with unspoken judgment, and in the stiff bow of the guards who had served another before her.As sh
The palace air brimmed with anticipation, thick like a brewing storm. Inside the grand hall, the scent of burning incense drifted from gold-plated bowls, curling in the air like whispers from the ancestors. Soft drums echoed in the background, played by two palace boys, steady and ceremonial. The marble floors had been scrubbed to glass-like shine, reflecting the rows of candles burning along the corridor.Alexander sat on the throne, robed in deep crimson, his royal crown resting heavy on his head. His face was unreadable—a mask of calm, yet behind his eyes, something stirred. Pain. Memory. Resignation. This was not how he envisioned choosing a queen.Beside him, a guard stood silently, holding a scroll with the names of the maidens. The chamberlain motioned, and the doors opened.One by one, the virgins began to enter.The first maiden, Awele, stepped forward with her head lowered, her feet bare, anklets chiming with each timid step. She was beautiful—smooth dark skin, full lips, an
The sky above the palace bled into a melancholic gray, the sun hiding behind thick clouds as though mourning with the king. The royal garden, once Daniela’s favorite place, stood untended. Wildflowers grew in stubborn defiance through cracks in the once manicured paths. The scent of blooming hibiscus clashed with the scent of time—that old, dusty silence that lingered in places where laughter had died.King Alexander stood still on the palace balcony, arms crossed behind his back, cloaked in heavy velvet. He wasn't the same man he was two years ago. The weight of loss had carved lines into his once-youthful face. His shoulders drooped beneath invisible burdens. Power still clothed him, yes, but it no longer fitted him like pride—it clung to him like grief.His eyes scanned the horizon—the same trail Daniela had once fled down with the child. The same trail the guards had failed to watch. His jaw clenched at the memory.Every now and then, he imagined seeing her figure walking back, ch
The evening of the engagement party felt like a dream to Lydia. The grand ballroom was bathed in warm, golden light. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, their glimmering reflections dancing across the polished marble floor. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, depicting stories of love, fortune, and legacy. Every corner of the room was carefully designed to evoke luxury, but it was the people who made it truly come alive.Guests murmured and laughed in soft clusters, champagne glasses clinking as they raised their toasts to Gabriel and Lydia. They had all come from different walks of life—wealthy socialites, business moguls, close friends of the family. But tonight, there was one thing that united them all: the promise of the future, the joining of two lives. Gabriel stood at the center of it all, a striking figure in a tailored suit, his posture confident but warm as he greeted guests. He was the picture of a man who had everything under control. But as his eyes scanned
The soft light of the morning sun was seen through the blinds, spilling its warmth over the living room of Gabriel’s apartment. Lydia sat on the sofa, her bare feet tucked under her as she scrolled through a wedding magazine, lost in thought. The room was filled with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the faint hum of the city outside only added to the quiet peace of the moment.Gabriel had just stepped out of the shower, a towel draped low on his hips, his hair still damp. He smiled as he saw her lost in the magazine, the occasional flutter of the page drawing her attention. It was one of those simple, perfect moments that made him feel like everything he’d ever wanted was right here.“You look like you’re plotting world domination,” Gabriel teased, stepping into the kitchen, his voice a warm caress.Lydia glanced up from the pages, offering him a playful scowl. “I’m plotting the perfect wedding, thank you very much. There’s a difference.”“Ah, my mistake,” he grinned, lean
Dark clouds thickened above the palace like a warning, casting long shadows that crept along the courtyard stones. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional rustle of dry wind against the banana trees that lined the palace fence.Alexander stood stiffly near the throne room window, eyes fixed on the sky. When the priest finally arrived, the guards ushered him in with reverence. The old man’s steps were slow, but his presence demanded respect. His hair, thick and snowy white, spilled down to his shoulders like ancestral feathers. His robe, dyed deep maroon with sacred herbs, carried the scent of ancient incense.He bowed slightly, then looked up. His eyes—milky but sharp—settled on Alexander’s face. “You sent for me, Your Highness?”Alexander gestured toward a mat. “Sit. There is trouble in the land.”The priest slowly lowered himself, folding his legs under him. “I know,” he said softly, voice like wind brushing through dried leaves. “The spirits whispered last ni