All Chapters of Forbidden To Love: A Royal Sin : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The doors still tremble from Kian’s entrance when he plants himself in the middle of the chamber, chest heaving, eyes sweeping across every face like a storm about to break.“I am a Halrion by blood!” he roars, fists clenched at his sides. “A true prince of Aerithia, by blood! Yet you treat me like dirt beneath your boots.”The court shifts uneasily, whispers fluttering like frightened birds, but no one dares speak. My father’s jaw tightens, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne, but he does not interrupt. Not yet.Kian paces, his voice sharp, slicing through the silence.“My mother’s lineage and sin was used against me! My every step, every mistake, paraded like a weapon! You people find joy in humiliating me. But hear this: I will not be stripped of my dignity because a woman chose to throw herself at me.”Gasps ripple. Some flinch, others frown, but he only grows louder.“Which of you here is without sin?” His eyes blaze as he points toward the council. “Who among you has nev

I bury myself in fashion. If politics is fire, then this is water; cool, soothing, and alive.The palace courtyard smells of fresh dye and ironed silk. My instructors hover over rolls of fabric, my tailors stitch fast with sharp needles, and the students laugh as they argue about thread colors. Their energy fills me, and I soak it in like sunlight.I walk among them with a notebook in hand. “No, Sofie, this hem must fall softer and it should glide, not drag,” I say, showing her with my fingers. “And Sam, that cut at the shoulder is too sharp and fluid.”They nod eagerly. For once, no one calls me princess. They just call me Christie, their teacher, their partner.Ron arrives in the middle of it all, flamboyant as always, with his long coat flaring like he stepped out of a painting. The moment the students see him, whispers flutter like birds, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He comes straight to me.“You’ve turned this place into a kingdom of your own,” he says, glancing at the sketches

This morning, I woke up with a weight on my chest. Last night’s tears still sting my eyes, but the resolve I clung to before I fell asleep lingers. I will not live my days pining after Gregory, not anymore. I will not let myself drown in something forbidden.“You are forbidden to love him,” my father’s words echo. I press a hand over my face and whisper, “I need to let this go.”I remind myself of Paris, of the lights, the laughter, the runway where I stood on my own two feet. I tell myself I can be strong again, that if Gregory has decided to treat me like a stranger, then I will treat him as nothing more than a crown prince.And Ron has been steady, warm and uncomplicated. Perhaps what I need is to lean into that and into him. Not because my heart beats for him, but because at least he is safe. At least with him, I can breathe without shame.I’m still pacing my chamber when a knock breaks my thoughts. Lina opens the door, bowing slightly. “Prince Ron of Edomie requests to see you,

I sob until my chest aches. The sound is ugly, broken, but I can’t stop. Last night replays in my head like a cruel performance, every detail sharper than the last. Vivian—strikingly beautiful, cultured, gracious, all soft edges and perfect manners. She isn’t like Anna, with her arrogance and sharp tongue. No, Vivian is the kind of woman people fall in love with without even trying.If Gregory were truly only my brother, I would be happy for him. I would ship them together, cheer him on, imagine their children. But he is not just my brother. He is the love of my life. The first man I have ever given myself to. The only one who has ever known me so completely.How dare he?How dare he find Vivian?How dare he touch her hand, lean into her ear, make her blush as though she alone mattered?My body shakes with fresh sobs. I bury my face into my pillows, the salt of my tears bitter against my lips. This isn’t supposed to happen. Gregory isn’t supposed to look at anyone else.And yet… deep

The palace has never looked like this before. Tonight, it glitters—not with crowns and swords, but with lights, silk, and glass. The courtyard has been transformed into a fabulous runway stage. Flowers drape the pillars, chandeliers hang from silver frames, and the long stretch of mirrored floor gleams beneath spotlights.Everywhere I look, Aerithia’s elite are here. Billionaires in tailored suits, fashionistas in daring gowns, aristocrats with jeweled fans. The air hums with excitement, the low murmur of voices rising like a symphony before the first note.Ron waves from across the hall, surrounded by his circle of wealthy friends. Their laughter rings out above the chatter, glasses of champagne flashing in their hands. He catches my eye and raises a glass in salute, a grin tugging at his lips. I nod back, grateful for his steady support.At the center, Father sits with his councillors, not in his usual stiff formality but in a more relaxed, social setting. Even his stern face has so