All Chapters of Forbidden To Love: A Royal Sin : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

My fingers tremble as I pick up the letter.It’s my handwriting. My signature. Everything looks exactly like mine.With shaking hands, I unfold it and start to read.Each line cuts deeper than the last. It’s a love letter; feelings, raw and shameless, pouring my heart out to Gregory. I can’t even breathe through some of the words. Words I would never dare to say aloud.When I reach the end, my voice is gone. The paper slips from my hand and flutters to the floor.“Father…” My throat tightens. “I didn’t write this.”He doesn’t answer. He’s staring at me with disbelief and disappointment, two things that burn more than anger ever could.Gregory finally looks at me, his eyes searching mine, but there’s no warmth there. Only hurt.“I swear it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I didn’t write this, Father. I didn’t!”Tears roll down my cheeks. I don’t even try to stop them.But no one moves.No one believes me.“What do you mean you didn’t write it? That’s your handwriting, Christie! That’s your

The morning feels unusually still, too quiet for comfort. When Lina tells me Father has summoned us, I already know another report from Heti has arrived.I hurry to the king’s chamber. Gregory is already there, standing beside Father’s desk, a paper in hand. Both their faces are grave.“Is it Kian again?” I ask softly.Gregory doesn’t answer immediately. He passes the paper to me instead. “Read for yourself.”My hands tremble slightly as I unfold the report. “Kian Halrion, in recent weeks, has begun diverting funds from Heti’s merchant council—taking large sums for ‘Aerithian-approved supplies’ that do not exist. Merchants have started questioning King Anslem, who appears unaware of these secret transactions.”I raise my head slowly. “He’s stealing from them?”Father nods, his jaw tight. “Out of frustration. His signed deals aren’t yielding profit, so he’s found another way to fill his pockets. And now his greed is turning Heti against its own king.”Gregory adds quietly, “The mercha

Gregory and I spend the day preparing our defense; drafting statements, reviewing documents, speaking with our senior lawyer. Every move has to be careful, every word measured. But Father won’t stop insisting on calling the council together. He believes confessing will save us from shame and ridicule. He paces the length of the throne room, his crown lying untouched on the table beside him. “I cannot let you both carry this burden,” he says for the third time that morning. “If I confess, they will see my guilt and spare you.” “Spare you?” I say quietly. “No, Father. They’ll destroy you and us along with you. No, Father. You can’t go out there and confess.” I stand so fast my chair scrapes. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “If you tell them you took another woman’s child and raised her as a princess, they’ll call you a liar or a child thief. You risk the crown itself.” He watches me, the worry deep in his face. He paces the room, fingers rubbing his jaw. “I cannot live with

The week leading to the visit of the Matican royals is a beehive of court sessions and uneasy whispers across the palace.The second hearing of the case against Gregory and me comes in a flash, but this time, we are fully prepared.When it’s time for the presentation of evidence, I rise with calm confidence. I don’t just compare the fake love letter with my own handwriting, I take the judges through every detail. I point out the faint differences in the strokes, the ink’s dull shade, and the texture of the paper. Then I produce another parchment from Aerithia’s royal stationery and lay both side by side.“Your honors,” I say, my voice clear, “this paper and ink are not of Aerithian origin. They belong to Heti, a fact confirmed by the royal clerk, who has served in the archives for over forty years. I put it you that the author isn't me but someone in Heit.”The old man, summoned as a witness, bows and confirms everything, his wrinkled hands trembling as he speaks. The courtroom buzzes

No one speaks.The air in the throne room turns heavy and almost sacred. For a moment, I swear I can hear the sound of my own heartbeat echoing off the marble floor.The man and woman standing across from us look like ghosts… no, reflections.Every face in the room is fixed on them and on Gregory and I. Two pairs of people staring into what looks like their own mirror image.Father doesn’t move. Gregory and I exchange a quick glance, he looks too stunned to speak. Then Father straightens on his throne, his voice calm but carrying the full weight of the crown.“Welcome to my palace,” he says. “Prince Cassian and Princess Celeste of Matica… please, be seated.”His words pull us all back to reality. The visitors step forward slowly. The woman, Celeste, walks with grace, though I notice her fingers tighten around the prince’s hand. She lifts her chin just a little, and that small movement almost takes my breath away.Because it’s mine.My own gesture. My own face.They take their seat bef