King Henry, everyone woman's dream and probably every man's nightmare needs to get married. Penelope Harding, quiet, every man's dream and every woman's nightmare, needs to find a man before her aunt cuts her head off. After a night at the club, Henry is fixated on Penny, calling her his queen but not everyone is keen on the idea of Henry marrying her. Overly jealous best friends, hard-headed fathers, and an evil ex-girlfriend. Will Henry marry his queen or will he have to settle for singlehood and risk losing his throne?
View MoreEpilogue: Not All Love Stories Have Happy EndingsNot every love story is destined to end with a romantic reunion or a picture-perfect ending. Some love stories are lessons, shaping the people we become and teaching us to value ourselves. For Henry and Penny, the end of their relationship wasn't the end of their growth—it was the beginning. As they stepped away from each other, they carried with them the hard-earned understanding that true healing often requires letting go.Henry's struggle was not only about losing Penny, but also about facing the deeper wounds he had been carrying since childhood. Growing up, he witnessed his father's toxic behaviours—manipulation, control, and neglect—which shaped his understanding of relationships. Unconsciously, he adopted some of those same behaviours, which ultimately led to the breakdown of his relationship with Penny. His inability to prioritize her and listen to her cries for support reflect
Two days later, I decided it was time to face the person I had hurt the most. I reached out to Penny, not knowing if she'd even want to hear from me. To my surprise, she agreed to meet. It felt like a small victory, though it came with the overwhelming weight of knowing that I had to face the consequences of my actions. I didn't expect her to take me back—how could I, after everything? But I needed her forgiveness. I needed to look her in the eye and admit my wrongs. Maybe, just maybe, we could find some sort of closure.We arranged to meet at a private location—an old park on the outskirts of town. It was one of those places with quiet trails winding through groves of oak trees, where the ground was carpeted in fallen leaves that crunched softly underfoot. The park had once been a favourite spot for us; we'd spent countless afternoons here, lying on the grass, watchin
"Henry, for God's sake, turn off that dreaded song! It's been two days!" Chris's voice boomed from outside my door, sounding more exasperated than usual.Careless Whisper had been playing on repeat for forty-eight hours straight, filling the room with its haunting saxophone melody. It was the only thing that made sense right now, the only sound that matched the broken rhythm of my heart. The rest of the world was a jarring cacophony I didn't want to hear."Don't make me call Mom," Chris threatened, his tone taking on that authoritative edge that always managed to get through to me.Shit. I reached for the remote and silenced the music.There was a moment of silence before Chris spoke again, his voice softer this tim
The past two weeks had felt like an endless loop of heartache and frustration, as though I was living in a bad dream that refused to let me wake. Ever since the breakup with Henry made headlines, the world outside had become too overwhelming. I was suffocating beneath the weight of my own emotions and the relentless attention from reporters, journalists, and even strangers who were all eager to pry into the details of my private life. I stopped answering calls altogether, letting my phone buzz uselessly across the room as I buried myself beneath blankets and tried to block out the world.Henry had gone silent, too. There were no signs of him anywhere—no statements, no pictures splashed across the gossip sites, no sightings at any of his usual haunts. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, and a part of me wondered if he felt the same choking pressure I did, hiding away
The car ride back to the estate is thick with silence. Chris grips the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather, and I sit slumped in the passenger seat, drowning in the weight of my thoughts. The pain sits heavy in my chest, gnawing at me, making it hard to breathe. Guilt twists my stomach into knots. I keep replaying the moment over and over—the look on Penny's face when she caught me, the betrayal in her eyes, the way her voice broke when she told me to leave. I thought I had escaped the kind of life that leads to moments like these. I thought she'd be the one to help me rewrite my story.But I ruined it. I ruined us.I stared out the window at the shadowy trees rushing by the road winding toward the one place I swore I'd never return to. Back then, leaving felt like breaking
As Archie helps me inside, the familiar warmth of home wraps around me, yet it feels hollow. The muted glow of the lamps casts soft light across the living room, where Meryl and Nana are seated, their conversations falling silent as I enter. Their faces shift from calm curiosity to shock and concern the moment they see me. It's as if the weight of what's happened seeps into the room, thickening the air.Aunt Linda, her sharp eyes widening with worry, rushes towards me. "What happened?" she asks, her voice tight with alarm.Archie stands beside me, his jaw clenched, an unspoken fury simmering beneath the surface. "Henry, he—" he begins but stops as if struggling to say the words.Meryl closes her eyes, the gesture slow and resigned, as though she already knows what'
"So, you're telling me that Sofia called you and informed you that Henry was at her apartment, rummaging for evidence against his father," I inquire, leaning forward with keen interest.Ashby nods solemnly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Winner, winner, chicken dinner."My brow furrows in confusion. "Why didn't Henry tell me?"Ashby offers a nonchalant shrug, his expression betraying no hint of concern. "Take it up with him."With a resigned sigh, I slump back against the cushions, defeated. "What is it going to take for him to respect me?""It's not you, he doesn't respect, it's himself," Archie interjects, his tone tinged with a hint of symp
We pull into the basement parking of Sofia's apartment complex, the concrete walls enclosing us in a dimly lit cavern. Following her lead, we ascend to the second floor, traversing a corridor adorned with nondescript doors until we reach the one at the far end. Nestled in the upper echelons of London's East Side, the apartment complex exudes an air of sophistication and exclusivity.Sofia deftly unlocks the door, ushering us into a realm of opulence and refinement. My eyes roam over the plush furnishings and tasteful décor, a testament to Sofia's discerning taste and apparent affluence. Despite my proximity to her, the nature of Sofia's occupation remains a mystery to me, yet the grandeur of her abode speaks volumes."Welcome to my humble abode," she announces with a flourish, guiding me towards the living room.
"So how did you come by this information about the assault charges?" I inquire, leaning forward in my chair.Chris draws in a deep breath, his expression grave. "Matt has a contact within Scotland Yard. Word has it that Sonja was there with Dad, filing a report, and there's purportedly evidence to support her claims.""Evidence?" I press, my mind racing to comprehend the gravity of the situation.Chris lets out a frustrated groan. "God, you're slow on the uptake, Hen. If they press charges against you, it's game over."There's no way I'm allowing that to happen. "Can't Matt make things disappear?" I suggest, grasping at straws.Chris scoffs incredulously. "You'
"Come in, Godfrey." The room, adorned with classic furnishings and antique fixtures, takes on a subdued ambiance as the middle-aged man gracefully enters. His splendid hair, neatly gelled, exudes an air of meticulous grooming, adding to the pomp and circumstance that always surrounds him. "Your father is here to see you." I exhale audibly, a subtle roll of my eyes betraying my reluctance. "I'll be down in a moment." "Okay, sir," Godfrey acknowledges, his voice carrying an undertone of deference. He turns around, adding with formality, "Your highness." The room, draped in regal tapestries and bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting, holds an air of restrained opulence. The scent of aged leather and polished mahogany furniture lingers as Godfrey makes his exit, leaving the room with a quiet sense of anticipation. I finish the remainder of my whiskey, its rich amber hue reflecting the subdued elegance of the surroundings. Slipping into a silk Gucci robe, I take a moment to relish ...
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