The Cursed Prince's Chosen Queen

CHAPTER ONE

From the very first day I stepped into the house of my adoptive parents—the Hathaways—I knew I didn’t belong.

It wasn’t something they said.

It was something I felt.

Cold. Immediate. Certain.

I never asked to be adopted. I never begged for a family. Yet they took me anyway, tore me from the orphanage, and fed me lies—promises of warm clothes, proper education, and a life fit for a princess.

But the moment I crossed their threshold, those promises turned to dust.

I wasn’t a daughter.

I was a slave.

Every morning before the sun dared to rise, I was already awake—scrubbing floors, preparing meals, washing clothes that were never mine. And still, it was never enough.

If the food had too much salt, I starved.

If a corner remained dusty, I was thrown into the basement—into suffocating darkness that swallowed both light and hope.

I used to pray.

I used to wish that somehow, someday, I would escape them—that I would disappear into a world where they could never find me.

But hope is a fragile thing.

I was eight when they adopted me.

Ten years later, I was still trapped.

And Daisy Hathaway made sure it stayed that way.

My “sister.”

She was cruelty wrapped in silk and perfume. Always watching. Always waiting. Always finding new ways to break me.

I remember one day too clearly.

I was mopping the floor while she lounged nearby, swirling expensive wine in a delicate glass. She watched me like I was nothing—like I didn’t exist.

Then suddenly—

The glass shattered.

Red wine spilled across the floor like blood.

But I hadn’t touched her.

I hadn’t done anything.

Still, I stayed silent. Because I knew better. Because reacting would only make it worse.

But Daisy wasn’t done.

With a smile that still haunts me, she picked up a shard of glass… and sliced her own skin.

Then she screamed.

“Help!”

Her mother, Ruth Hathaway, came rushing out. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t hesitate.

Her hand struck my face so hard that the world spun.

I fell.

Straight onto the broken glass.

Pain exploded through my body, sharp and merciless, but it didn’t matter. It never did.

Daisy was already speaking—soft, trembling, convincing.

“She attacked me…”

And just like that, my fate was sealed.

Ruth grabbed the mop and struck my back—again and again and again—until counting became useless, until pain became everything.

By the time she stopped, I was already bleeding.

But they weren’t finished.

Jacob Hathaway walked in, his eyes scanning the scene—not with concern, but with cold satisfaction.

Without a word, he signaled his assistant.

A bucket of filthy water was poured over me.

Then I was dragged—like I always was—down to the basement.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

No food.

No light.

No mercy.

One day passed. Then another.

At some point, I thought I would die there.

But fate… had other plans.

Because in that darkness, with nothing but pain and silence to keep me company, I made a promise to myself:

I, Mira, will leave this house alive.

Not because I had a plan.

But because I refused to die there.

Weeks passed.

My wounds barely healed when something changed.

The Hathaways were in trouble.

Their wealth was crumbling, their company collapsing—and desperation makes monsters even worse.

That was when they saw it.

A news report.

A man willing to pay ten million dollars… for a virgin girl willing to marry his dog.

Ten million.

Without hesitation, they called.

Without hesitation, they chose me.

I didn’t know.

Not then.

All I knew was that, for the first time, I was called out of the kitchen… and told to sit.

Sit.

Like I mattered.

Jacob looked at me and said, “By the end of this week, you’ll be leaving this house… as the lady of another.”

I forced tears into my eyes. I begged. I pleaded.

But inside—

I was smiling.

Because this… this was my escape.

Even if it meant walking into the unknown.

Even if it meant something worse.

Anything was better than this.

For a few days, they treated me like I was human.

Fed me. Cleaned me. Dressed me.

Prepared me.

Then the day came.

A long black limousine waited outside the gate—silent, expensive, terrifying.

For a moment, I wondered if I was being sent to royalty.

Or to something far worse.

They dressed me like a princess, hiding what they could—but scars don’t disappear so easily.

Before I entered the car, Jacob demanded his payment.

The masked man inside didn’t argue.

Ten million dollars.

Transferred instantly.

Satisfied, Jacob shoved me forward.

My head hit the top of the car as I stumbled inside.

The door slammed shut.

And just like that—

I was gone.

As the car began to move, a cloth covered my eyes.

Darkness returned.

But this time…

It felt different.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t move.

I was afraid.

But deep inside, something burned quietly—

Hope.