02 The Day They Chose Him

Cassandra's POV

The call came in the morning.

I already knew the answer before I picked up.

“Negative,” Dr. Reynold’s voice said softly through the line. “Your hormones are out of balance again. Your period will come soon.”

I closed my eyes. The words didn’t sting the way they once did. The ache had dulled over the years, leaving nothing but a hollow acceptance. I had almost expected it.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I whispered before ending the call.

I didn’t tell Richard. After what he said last night, what was the point? His love wasn’t tethered to my body anymore. My pain was no longer his problem.

But he didn’t give me peace, either. Before I’d even put down the phone, he was knocking at my door, impatient.

“Have you spoken to your father?” His voice carried that sharp edge of command, the one he had learned from his mother.

I forced myself to nod. “I will.”

It wasn’t much of a conversation. My father had already made his decision before I opened my mouth.

“The court will back Richard,” he said firmly, as if delivering a weather report. “It’s for the best, Sandra. The future crown is secure with him. Arden will step aside quietly, Sebastien will follow. You will make a fine queen, sweetheart.”

I knew he meant it kindly. But it wasn’t what I wanted.

“Father, I, ”

He cut me off. “This is bigger than your wants. You’ll understand when you sit on the throne.”

I hung up the call, staring at the silence of my room. The walls didn’t echo with power. They echoed with emptiness.

Then came the day of betrayal.

Only the queen was permitted in court. The rest of us waited in gilded halls, our ears straining for whispers that slipped through the cracks.

By the time word reached me, it was over.

The court had chosen Richard.

All but three families had pledged their support.

Arden hadn’t even protested. He had walked away, boarded his jet to Belmont, and left the kingdom behind as if it meant nothing.

No challenge. No scandal. Just silence.

And silence, once again, was the loudest betrayal.

That evening, a ball was thrown in Richard’s honour.

The palace glittered with chandeliers and laughter, music spilling through the marble halls. Noble families raised glasses of champagne, their smiles polished, their toasts honeyed. But beneath the sparkle, I saw it clearly.

Ivana keeping her distance from my mother. Her warmth toward me cooled into polite disinterest.

They had no need for us anymore.

My father had delivered the court into Ivana’s hands. His usefulness was gone. And Ivana was far too clever to keep a pawn once it had played its role.

I watched her carefully as she drifted through the ballroom, her gown a stormy silk that shimmered under the light. She no longer clung to my mother’s arm as she once did. Instead, she leaned into the other matriarchs, charming, flattering, neutralising.

It was brilliant. Cold. Calculated.

Ivana wasn’t just preparing for Richard’s rise. She was preparing to stand alone.

My mother might not have seen it, but I did. And as I stood there in my jewel-studded gown, I realised something chilling.

The queen’s friendship with the Montclairs had been nothing but strategy.

And I had been the price paid.

I went to bed early that night, exhaustion pressing down on me like armour I could no longer carry. Richard never came home.

I didn’t ask. I didn’t care.

Even Diana’s quiet congratulations the next morning felt hollow.

“You’ll be queen one day,” she whispered.

But the title meant nothing to me. It had never been my dream. Not like this.

Later, noblewomen began arriving in waves, their smiles painted, their compliments sharp as daggers wrapped in silk.

“Lady Cassandra, such grace.”

“You’ll bring new light to the crown.”

“Your beauty will strengthen our dynasty.”

Where were they before? When my womb was my failure, when I was whispered about in palace corridors? Now, suddenly, they wanted my favour.

The hypocrisy was suffocating.

A week passed. Richard grew more distant. When I asked, he claimed he was “sorting things out.” That once everything settled, he would take me on a trip, just the two of us.

I didn’t believe him.

One afternoon, desperate for fresh air, I walked the palace gardens. The roses were in bloom, their perfume heavy in the spring air, but even beauty couldn’t soothe the ache in my chest.

When I returned to my wing, I froze.

Diana stood near the door, eyes swollen, cheeks wet with tears. A tray of untouched tea and biscuits sat on the table. She had been trying to play hostess.

But to who?

The answer was in the center of the room.

Ivana sat like a queen on her throne, her smile gracious, her presence poisonous.

Beside her sat a young woman, delicate, lovely, around my age. She had soft brown eyes and a carefully composed smile.

At her side stood two children, a boy and a girl, both about three years old.

And Richard.

My husband.

Silent. Guilty. Uncomfortable.

Ivana’s smile widened. “Cassandra, darling. Meet James and Eleanor.” She gestured with a graceful hand. “They are three years old. This is their mother, Rachel.”

I stared. At the woman. At the children. At Richard.

The silence roared.

Ivana rose, her elegance a mask for cruelty.

“Richard will be king one day. And you have failed in your duty to provide an heir. Fortunately for you, your lineage still holds value. Otherwise, we’d have replaced you long ago. As it stands, you cannot be dismissed without raising questions. So consider this a blessing.”

She gestured again toward Rachel.

“It is within his right to take a concubine since you can’t bear him heirs. Rachel is here for that purpose. James and Eleanor are his children, my grandchildren. And this is their new home.”

My mouth went dry.

Ivana’s voice cut deeper. “You don’t have to love them. You don’t even have to like them. But you will accept them. Tomorrow morning, you will stand before the press. You will welcome these children publicly and thank Rachel for providing what you could not. There will be no scandal. No anger. No drama. You will behave like a queen.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only I could hear.

“Your father’s sway is gone. His usefulness spent. He is dispensable now. I am only keeping you out of respect for our friendship and his service. You will remain Richard’s wife. But you will not interfere with Rachel or the children. Am I clear?”

The silence between us stretched long and brittle.

And then I laughed.

Not a polite laugh. Not even a bitter laugh. But a deep, incredulous sound that filled the room, sharp and unhinged, making everyone flinch.

Ivana had lost her mind.

If she thought she could walk into my home, parade her bastard grandchildren, and expect me to kneel?

She had underestimated me.

Richard’s eyes darted nervously between us. Diana kept her head bowed, trembling. Rachel looked down at her hands, cheeks pink with shame, or perhaps triumph.

And me?

I stood tall, my laughter fading into a razor smile.

“You want me to thank her?” I said softly. “You want me to call this loyalty? This betrayal?”

Ivana’s smile faltered.

I took a step forward, my voice cold as steel.

“No, Your Majesty. I am not a puppet. And if you think I will stand before cameras to polish your lies, then you’ve forgotten exactly who you married your son to.”

The room went still.

Ivana’s mask cracked. Rachel shifted uneasily. Richard swallowed hard.

But I didn’t stop.

Because in that moment, I knew one thing.

They might have the crown. The children. The power.

But I still had something they couldn’t touch.

My voice.

And I was done being silent.