LOGINCaroline
Peter’s mouth opened, but I couldn’t hold back anymore. The words burst from me like a dam finally breaking. “Why, Peter? Why do you care more about Cerene than me....your own wife? I carried our child for months. I screamed through labor while you demanded they rip my bone marrow out for her. I buried our son alone in the pouring rain, and you still chose her every single time! Why is she always more important? Tell me the truth for once in your life!” For a heartbeat, Peter’s eyes flickered with something guilt, maybe even regret. His grip on me softened, and I saw the man I once loved flicker behind the anger. “Thats what you think?" He began to speak softly. My heart clenched painfully. Was he finally listening? But the moment shattered when I heard hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway. Cerene appeared, looking pale and delicate in her expensive birthday dress, tears already glistening in her eyes. She rushed straight to Peter and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her frail body against him as if she might collapse without his support. “Peter, please… don’t hurt Caroline,” she begged, her voice soft and so pitiful, I almost fell for it. “She’s already been through so much because of me. I’m so sorry, Caro…” Peter’s expression changed the second he heard het speak. The brief vulnerability I had glimpsed vanished, replaced by cold attitude I'd learnt to face as he pulled Cerene closer and turned on me. “See what you’re doing, Caro?” he yelled, his voice rising sharply. “Cerene has done nothing but show kindness to everyone....including you! She’s the one fighting leukemia and asthma every single day, barely holding on, and you’re still making everything about yourself. You’re being selfish and cruel!” I scoffed bitterly, my entire body shaking with rage. I yanked his hands off me with every ounce of strength I had left, stepping back until my back hit the wall again. “What’s next, Peter? She sleeps in our bed? I’m not foolish. I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you kiss her when you think I’m not watching. How much more of my life am I supposed to give up?” Cerene’s eyes widened with "shock". She scoffed, a sound so unlike her usual fragile act, then immediately burst into loud sobs, burying her face against Peter’s chest as her shoulders shook. “It will only be for a week, Caro,” she cried pitifully, her voice muffled but loud enough for maximum effect. “I didn’t think you would mind… I need a calm, familiar environment to recover from the leukemia. The treatments have left me so weak, and the asthma attacks keep coming back worse. Peter thought it would help me heal. I just… I just need somewhere safe.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, staring at Peter with an intensity that burned through my tears. The pain in my chest felt suffocating, like my heart was being torn apart all over again. “When exactly were you planning to tell me, Peter?” I demanded, my voice low. “That our matrimonial bed...the bed where we conceived our son...would be taken by Cerene? When?” Peter opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Cerene let out a choked sob and dropped the real bomb, her voice barely a whisper but crystal clear in the heavy silence. “Because… because I’m carrying Peter’s child. The doctors said the stress could make me lose it. I need to be with him, Caro. I’m sorry.” The hallway seemed to spin. My knees nearly buckled as the world tilted. Peter looked as shocked as I felt, his face draining of color. “Cerene… what?” he whispered, stunned. “We have never even.....“ I laughed....a broken, hollow sound that echoed off the walls. “Of course. Of course this is happening,” I said, my voice cracking as fresh tears spilled down my face. “Get out of my life. Both of you.” The distant music from the birthday party continued playing, mocking the wreckage of everything I thought I knew. “Caro, wait... I don't know what she's talking about.... Cerene, what nonsense are you saying?!“Night settled heavily over the estate. I lay awake long after Tyrone’s breathing had deepened beside me, his arm draped possessively across my waist. The guest-room door had closed hours ago. No further sound came from that side of the suite. Still, sleep refused me. Somewhere past two in the morning, a soft creak broke the silence. I opened my eyes. The connecting door to the sitting room stood slightly ajar—wider than I had left it. A pale shape moved in the darkness beyond. Sophie, barefoot, the borrowed silk robe clinging to her frame as she crossed toward the small writing desk where Tyrone had left the evening reports and his private seal. I slipped from the bed without disturbing him, the marble floor cold under my feet. By the time I reached the sitting room, Sophie already held one of the folded documents in her hand, angling it toward the thin moonlight coming through the tall windows. “Looking for something specific?” I asked quietly. She didn’t startle. She only tur
I stood with my back against the closed bedroom door for a long moment, listening.No footsteps retreated. Sophie remained in the sitting room.I moved to the writing desk near the window, opened the slim leather folio the staff had left for correspondence, and withdrew a sheet of heavy cream stationery. My pen moved quickly, cleanly.A short message to the head of household security. A request for the guest-room key to be logged and restricted after midnight. A second note to the kitchen: no additional trays or late-night refreshments were to be delivered to the second bedroom without my direct approval. I sealed both with the small wax stamp bearing the D’Venne crest and rang for a footman.When the young man appeared, I handed him the notes with a calm smile. He bowed and left without question.Only then did I open the bedroom door again.Sophie was seated on the settee I had vacated, legs crossed, examining her nails as if the room already belonged to her. She looked up when I ent
The palace physician arrived within forty minutes, a composed older man with a leather bag and a quiet authority that filled the guest room the moment he entered. Tyrone remained near the doorway while the doctor examined Sophie, asking measured questions about her flight, the dust at the stables, any history of migraines.Sophie answered in soft, careful tones. She described a sharp pressure behind her eyes, a lingering dizziness, nothing more. When the doctor suggested a mild sedative and complete rest until morning, she accepted with a gracious nod, though her gaze drifted past him toward Tyrone more than once.I stayed in the sitting room, curled on the settee with a cup of ginger tea the staff had brought. The low murmur of voices carried through the open door. Tyrone’s replies were brief. Practical. When the physician finally stepped out and confirmed there was no serious concern, only travel fatigue compounded by mild sinus irritation, Tyrone thanked him and saw him to the ma
Caroline Tyrone’s arm stayed locked around my waist the entire walk back to the suite. He matched his steps to mine, slowing whenever I pretended to falter, his voice low and steady near my ear. “Almost there. Just a little further.” Behind us, Sophie’s footsteps quickened on the gravel path. “Tyrone....wait.” Her voice carried that soft, breathy edge again. “I… I think the dust really got to me. My head is pounding.” He glanced back, still supporting most of my weight. Sophie had one hand pressed to her temple, blue eyes glassy with practiced discomfort. She swayed just enough to look fragile. “I don’t do hospitals,” she added quickly, almost pleading. “You know that. I just need to lie down for a while. Please. I’ll be fine if I rest.” Tyrone’s jaw tightened. For a moment he looked caught between two directions....me leaning against his side, and the woman who had known him since childhood standing a few paces away with a hand to her head. I kept my breathing shallow and une
Caroline“So,” Sophie said, voice light and sweet, “are you two going to join me, or should I just make myself at home?”Tyrone glanced at me first. When I gave a small nod, he rose and pulled out a chair for me at the small dining table near the window. Sophie was already uncovering the silver trays, the scent of warm croissants and smoked salmon drifting through the suite. She poured champagne into three flutes without asking, then slid into the seat closest to Tyrone as if it had always been hers.I kept my expression neutral. Calm. Unbothered. Inside, every casual brush of her fingers against his arm felt like a deliberate claim.Sophie buttered a piece of toast and leaned in, her shoulder almost touching his. “So tell me everything. How did you two even meet? It all happened so fast. One minute I’m in Milan shooting for Vogue Italia, the next I hear you’ve gone and gotten married.”Tyrone’s answer was brief. Polite. Careful. “We met through mutual associates. It progressed quick
Caroline “King Tyrone D’Venne? Room service. I have the champagne breakfast you ordered last night.”I froze against Tyrone’s chest, water still lapping softly around us. My fingers, which had been wrapped around him only seconds earlier, loosened in confusion.“We didn’t order anything,” I whispered, tilting my head back to look at him. “Did we?”Tyrone’s jaw tightened. His eyes, still dark with the heat we’d been building, flicked toward the bathroom door. He exhaled through his nose, clearly irritated by the interruption.“I’ll handle it,” he muttered, already shifting as if to stand. “Just send it back.”“No.” I caught his wrist beneath the water. “Someone ordered it in our names. Don’t you want to know who?”He groaned low in his throat, the sound full of frustrated want. His free hand slid possessively along my thigh one last time, as if reluctant to let the moment go.“Caroline…” He protested, I could sense he didn't want to step out.“Please.” I kept my voice soft but firm. “







