Nine Months [Tagalog]

The Sussex Ball was in full swing, with the grand ballroom of Windsor Manor alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses. The golden chandeliers cast their warm glow over the assembled nobility, creating the illusion of a perfect world-a world of wealth, refinement, and carefully crafted masks. 

At the center of it all stood Lady Victoria Windsor, Duchess of Sussex, adorned in an emerald silk gown that clung to her slender waist before cascading to the floor in shimmering waves. Diamonds sparkled at her neck and ears, but it was her sharp hazel eyes and confident smile that held the true power. She was untouchable, unshakable-at least on the surface. 

Beside her, Lady Catherine Markham, her dearest friend and confidante, sipped from a glass of champagne, her sapphire gown scandalously low-cut. Her auburn hair glowed like fire under the candlelight, and her sharp tongue was as quick as ever. 

"Victoria, my darling," Catherine drawled, her lips curving into a knowing smile, "you've been scanning this crowd for nearly an hour. Might I ask which gentleman-or perhaps servant-has captured your elusive attention tonight?" 

Victoria turned her head slightly, her smile unbothered. "You let your imagination run wild, Catherine. I was merely observing." 

"Observing who, exactly? Your husband?" Catherine gestured discreetly across the ballroom, where Lord Thomas Windsor, Duke of Sussex, stood speaking with a group of older lords, his face set in his usual serious expression. 

Victoria's lips tightened ever so slightly. "Thomas is occupied with politics, as usual." 

"Mm," Catherine hummed, her emerald-cut sapphire ring catching the light as she swirled her glass. "And yet, I believe your eyes were wandering toward the corner just moments ago." 

Victoria followed Catherine's subtle glance toward a shadowed alcove, where James Parker, a servant dressed in the Windsor household livery, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and the flickering candlelight highlighted the sharp angles of his face. 

"You're insufferable," Victoria said under her breath. 

Catherine smirked. "You wound me, dearest." 

Before Victoria could respond, a loud, jovial voice interrupted them. 

"Your Grace!" 

Both women turned to see Lord Alexander Windsor, Thomas's younger brother, making his way toward them. Alexander was all sharp smiles and mischievous eyes, his auburn hair slightly disheveled, and his cravat tied just a little too loosely. 

"Lord Alexander," Victoria greeted coolly, her gloved hands folded delicately in front of her. "You seem in high spirits tonight." 

"And why shouldn't I be? The Sussex Ball is the finest event of the season." Alexander's sharp blue eyes flickered briefly to Catherine, and he offered her an exaggerated bow. "Lady Catherine, always a vision." 

Catherine chuckled. "Lord Alexander, you are incorrigible." 

Alexander's gaze returned to Victoria. "But tell me, dear sister-in-law, are you enjoying yourself tonight? Or does the weight of the duchess's crown feel a little heavier than usual?" 

Victoria's smile tightened, though she refused to let her composure falter. "It suits me just fine, my lord." 

"Of course, it does." Alexander leaned closer, dropping his voice so only she could hear. "But I must admit, emerald is a dangerous color for you, Victoria. It brings out the fire in your eyes-and the envy in others." 

Before she could retort, Alexander straightened and offered a sly wink before slipping back into the crowd, leaving Victoria fuming. 

Catherine arched a brow. "I believe someone still carries a torch for you." 

Victoria turned sharply to her friend. "Don't." 

Catherine raised her hands in surrender, her smile unrepentant. 

---

Moments later, Victoria stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air biting at her flushed skin. She gripped the stone balustrade, her composure cracking just slightly under the weight of it all-the stares, the whispers, the shadows creeping at the edges of her perfect facade. 

"I thought I might find you here, Your Grace." 

She froze at the sound of the voice, low and smooth, with a faint hint of something unreadable. Slowly, she turned her head to see James Parker standing a few feet away, his hands clasped behind him. 

"You shouldn't be here, James," she said softly, though there was no real heat in her voice. 

"I could say the same to you, Your Grace." 

Victoria studied him carefully-the sharpness of his jawline, the cool gray of his eyes, and the faint scar running across his eyebrow. He was unlike the polished gentlemen inside; there was an edge to him, something dangerous and alluring. 

"You're bold, Mr. Parker," she said finally. 

He stepped closer, his voice low. "Boldness is often born from necessity, Your Grace." 

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the world around them disappeared. The music, the laughter-it all faded into silence. 

"I should go back inside," Victoria said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. 

James nodded but didn't step back. "As you wish." 

But she didn't move. Neither did he. 

---

When Victoria re-entered the ballroom, her mask was firmly back in place. The Duchess was untouchable once more. 

But as she moved through the glittering crowd, her husband's icy blue eyes caught her from across the room. Thomas was watching her-closely, carefully. 

Meanwhile, from a corner near the orchestra, Lady Elizabeth Fanshawe observed the Duchess with narrowed eyes, her ruby lips curled into a smug smile. 

Catherine intercepted Victoria halfway across the ballroom, linking arms with her. 

"Well?" Catherine asked softly. "Did you find what you were looking for on that balcony?" 

Victoria's smile didn't waver, but her voice carried a faint edge. "Catherine, if you don't stop prying, I may have you thrown into the gardens with the foxes." 

Catherine laughed, her sharp eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, Victoria. The foxes would be better company than half the men in this room." 

As the orchestra swelled into a sweeping waltz, Victoria took her place at the center of the ballroom floor, her emerald gown glowing under the chandelier's golden light. But as she moved gracefully through the dance, her mind wandered-to sharp blue eyes, to shadowed corner

s, and to a balcony where secrets hung heavy in the cold night air. 

The game had begun.