All Chapters of Tempting the Wrong Prince: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Arden’s POVThe moment the office door shut behind us, the carefully maintained air of civility I had forced myself to wear downstairs shattered like thin, brittle glass.Here, in my space, my sanctuary, there was no need for masks.No need for diplomacy. No need for measured breath. No need to tolerate anything or anyone.Lord Abraham Welsh barely had time to exhale before I stepped forward, closing the distance between us with deliberate, predatory calm. He hadn’t even fixed his robes or smoothed his expression yet, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t interested in giving him time to compose whatever court-friendly lies he intended to deliver.“What is the meaning of all this?” I demanded, my voice sharp enough to slice through the thick tension.He flinched, an involuntary, human reaction he tried and failed to hide. The movement was small but telling, and under different circumstances I might have enjoyed it. Ministers rarely feared anyone but the King.But today? Today I was not in th

Cassandra’s POVMorning crept into the room like an uninvited witness, slow, steady, unapologetic. Soft sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains in thin, golden slants, warming the sheets I had barely slept on. Warm air pooled across the room, carrying with it distant sounds from the courtyard: guards changing shifts, the soft murmur of palace staff beginning their day, the faint ringing of bells from somewhere deeper in the castle grounds.And for a small, fragile moment, I let myself pretend.Pretend that I had slept peacefully. Pretend that my chest didn’t ache with the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. Pretend that Arden’s arms hadn’t been around me only hours ago, breathing life into parts of me that had long been starved. Pretend that my life wasn’t fracturing, cleanly, mercilessly, in three different directions at once.But then I rolled over.And reality struck with a violence that felt almost physical.Richard was sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched forwar

Cassandra’s POVFor a heartbeat, I could only stare at Diana, hair dishevelled, cheeks flushed, chest heaving as though she’d sprinted across the palace grounds. Her panic rattled through the room like loose windows in a storm, vibrating through my nerves before I could fully process her words. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and the fear in her eyes told me this wasn’t one of the palace’s usual inconveniences.I stepped toward her. “Diana, what emergency?”She swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her chest as though willing her heartbeat to slow. “Rachel. She’s in the great room, crying, wailing. She says her son is sick. Very sick. And she’s demanding that you come. Usually, the Queen Consort would handle such domestic matters but… Ivana isn’t home.”Of course. Of course the moment Ivana vanished, chaos would come knocking, screaming, tearing through the palace walls as if waiting for the slightest opportunity to spill out. The universe had a twisted sense of timing.I didn’t wa

Cassandra’s POVThe second I stepped out of the palace gates, urgency pushed me harder than fear ever could. The guards shouted after me, my name, my title, commands, but their voices were nothing more than distant echoes bouncing off stone. I did not look back. I couldn’t. There was no time to waste on rules meant to cage me.The driver must have sensed the danger radiating from me, because the moment I shouted for him to bring the car around, he reacted instantly. The vehicle rolled forward in a rush, the tyres barely meeting the gravel before he accelerated toward me.I yanked the door open and flung myself into the back seat. “Take me to the courthouse,” I said, breathless.“Yes, Your Highness.”He didn’t hesitate. The car lunged forward, swallowing the road in powerful strides. The city blurred past the windows, the wind howling against the frame as though urging us on. Good. Let it howl. Every second mattered. James’s life hung in the balance. A DNA test. An HLA match. A father

Richard’s POVThe moment Sandra’s words registered, that James was in the hospital, that he had aplastic anaemia, that he needed me, something inside me violently tore loose.I didn’t feel my feet move. I didn’t feel the air. I didn’t feel the ground beneath me.I only moved.People parted for me like a tide breaking around a single rock. I heard nothing, none of the murmurs erupting in the hallway, none of the reporters barking questions, not even my mother calling after me in that shrill, commanding tone she thought the world owed obedience to.Nothing reached me.I sprinted through the corridor, taking the stairs two, three at a time. Out of the courthouse. Into the blinding, merciless daylight.The driver had already been alerted somehow, perhaps through the palace network, perhaps from the chaos building behind me. The car screeched up to the front steps, and before the tyres fully stilled, my mother slipped in beside me, still adjusting her shawl, still trembling in that drama