The King's Forbidden Heir

Elara’s POV

“Ugh, fuck ass bitch” The words escaped my lips as I tossed the last framed picture of Liam into the trash can. The glass shattered against the metal edge, how fitting. Two years of my life wasted on a deceitful opportunist with impressive cheekbones but no scruples.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. For one brief moment, I hoped it wasn’t more bad news. But of course… it was Attorney James Holt.

Perfect.

Letting out a resigned sigh, I answered. “Please tell me you have some good news.”

“Miss Windsor,” he began in that polished, lawyerly tone that screamed bad news. “I’ve just been in touch with Liam’s attorney. Things are… complicated.”

My brow furrowed. “Complicated how?”

“He’s refusing to release the house, the cars, or the funds in your joint account. He claims most of the payments came from him.”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “His money? Are you serious? Wow. The nerve.”

“I get that you’re frustrated,” Holt began cautiously. “But unless you can provide receipts showing the payments to your account, he could successfully argue you’re just a bitter ex.”

“Bitter?” I repeated, nearly choking on the word. “He used me for my money! He even admitted it!”

“Do you have any evidence?”

“Yes! Receipts. Screenshots. Bank statements. Everything.” My voice was sharp enough to cut through stone.

“Send that over tonight. The sooner we can file, the better off you’ll be.”

“I’ll send them,” I said through clenched teeth. “I refuse to let him keep a single cent that belongs to me.”

“Excellent. I’ll be waiting for your email.”

He hung up, leaving me alone with my anger.

I staggered to the couch and threw myself down, running my fingers through my hair. Liam’s infuriatingly smug face flashed through my mind, and I almost kicked the coffee table in frustration.

Two years. Gone. All for a hollow shell of a man with the moral integrity of a goat.

My hands trembled as I reached for the remote, turning on the TV for some distraction, only to feel my heart sink.

On the screen was the Averelle royal crest.

My family’s crest.

A reporter stood in front of it, microphone in hand.

“Breaking news: King Alaric Windsor has officially announced his abdication. The King will step down to be with his long-time partner, a hotel receptionist identified as......"

The remote slipped from my fingers and thudded onto the rug.

“What?” I whispered. “He… he did what?”

Cutting to a clip of Alaric my older brother, the King, beaming as if he’d just won a jackpot instead of discarding centuries of royal tradition.

I couldn’t manage to breathe until I heard myself murmur, “No. No, no, no.”

I dialed him immediately. He answered on the second ring.

“Elara,” he greeted with warmth.

“Tell me what I just saw on TV isn’t real.”

He laughed. Laughed!

“I knew you’d be the first to call.”

“Alaric!” I snapped. “You’re the King of Averelle! You can’t just give that up! For......for.... a hotel receptionist?”

“For the woman I love,” he replied, his voice annoyingly calm.

“You can’t marry a commoner!”

“I can,” he said. “Just not while I’m king.”

I pressed my palm to my forehead. “This is madness. What about your duty? Our family? The crown?”

“Elara,” he said gently, “if you think the crown comes before love, you’ve forgotten what family truly means.”

“Love?” I scoffed. “That sounds like delusion to me.”

He chuckled, which only fueled my anger further. “You’ll understand one day.”

“No, I won’t. What happens now? Who takes the throne in Averelle?”

There was a brief silence before he responded.

“Celene.”

The ground felt like it shifted beneath me.

“Celene?” I whispered. “Celene will be Queen?”

“The council already approved it,” he said. “She’ll be crowned in three days.”

My blood ran cold.

Celene. The perfect one. The dutiful one. The icy one. The sister who seldom acknowledged me, except to point out my flaws.

“You must be joking....”

“I’m not.” He sighed softly. “She’s been preparing for this her entire life.”

“I need to call her,” I muttered. “This is all so wrong.”

“Good luck,” Alaric said quietly.

I hung up, staring at my phone as it vibrated with an incoming call.

Princess Celene Windsor.

The last person I wanted to hear from.

I let the phone ring. It stopped. But then it started ringing again.

Great.

Reluctantly, I answered. “Hello… Princess Celene.”

“Elara Windsor,” she said, her voice as icy as winter. “I assume you’ve heard the news.”

“About you becoming queen? Yes, I have.”

“Then you know that all royals must return home immediately. No exceptions. Your flight is scheduled for dawn. All the details are in your email.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “You’re summoning me?”

“Yes.”

“Celene, I have a life here.”

“You have a responsibility,” she corrected me sharply. “Your time as a commoner is over. The laws Alaric changed are being reversed. You’re coming home.”

“You can’t......”

“I am your future queen,” she retorted. “This isn’t up for discussion. Disobeying will have consequences.”

A mix of anger and fear churned inside me.

“Celene…” My voice trembled. “I don’t belong there. I don’t want this. Please.......”

“You will adjust,” she replied flatly before hanging up.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at my phone as if it had just delivered bad news.

Then I let out a scream into a pillow.

Once I managed to calm down, I called Alaric again. He picked up, and his sigh told me he was already aware.

“She’s lost it,” I said. “She’s treating me like I’m being dragged back as a prisoner.”

“You’ll be alright,” he said gently. “Just go. Please.”

“Fine.”

The word felt like surrender.

After we ended the call, I opened my email, and there it was. My ticket back to the gilded cage of Averelle.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “Not before one last night.”

So I hopped in the shower, pulled on my best dress, grabbed my purse, and stepped outside.

“One last night of freedom,” I murmured to myself.

“And then… back to hell.”