All Chapters of Tempting the Wrong Prince: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Arden’s POVA clean stage, palace emblem behind him, controlled media. Not the chaotic street press. Not the aggressive reporters who tried to bait answers. This was curated, strategic, the kind of press event designed to calm a nation.Richard stepped up and announced the good news: the arrival of grain, the stabilising supply, the mending international relationships. He spoke about more countries agreeing to supply food at normal prices. He spoke about tax relief on imports. He spoke about distribution and oversight. He spoke like a man determined to sound like a future king even while his father lay unconscious behind glass.And then I watched the crowd.Not the palace staff, the external delegates, the selected citizens, the press representatives.They were visibly happy. Their shoulders relaxed. Their murmuring shifted from anger to hope. And that, more than anything, confirmed what had been sitting in my gut since the riot.The aggressors and rioters had not been ordinary citize

Cassandra’s POVThe sun moved across the sky, and the air inside the warehouse grew hotter, thicker with dust. I drank water in small sips, careful not to let my throat dry out because I needed my voice. I needed to speak to officers, to citizens, to my father, to anyone who needed direction.I was speaking when one of the ministers approached.I recognised him immediately. He wasn’t one of the loud ones in court who shouted about honour and monarchy. He was one of the quieter ones. The kind who sat back, listened, and moved behind scenes. The kind who smiled politely while making deals that hurt people.He walked toward my father as if he belonged there.My father turned slightly to face him, expression neutral. The minister leaned in, lowering his voice. I couldn’t hear every word at first, but I saw the posture, the closeness, the confidential tone, the casual arrogance of a man who thought he could buy anyone with the right offer. I moved closer without making it obvious, pretendi

Arden’s POVOne of the officers behind me made a sound, half inhale, half curse, because that was a direct insult to a prince.Nala’s chest rose and fell fast. She looked satisfied, as if that small act of disrespect had restored some control to her.I slowly brushed my shoulder with my palm, then looked back at her. My voice stayed calm, but it turned colder.“It isn’t ladylike,” I said.Her laugh was sharp, ugly.“Ladylike?” she repeated. “You want to talk to me about ladylike after you humiliated me?”“You humiliated yourself,” I corrected.Nala’s eyes flashed. She stepped closer again, her voice rising.“I will tell my father,” she snapped. “And I will make sure you regret what you did.”I lifted a brow.“What did I do?”“You locked me up like a prisoner!” she shouted. “You treated me like I was nothing. You’ll see. Eldenwald will fall.”There it was.The threat she’d been holding inside her chest like a heartbeat.Eldenwald will fall.She said it with confidence, with certainty,

Richard’s POVI closed my eyes and made myself a promise, one that felt like a vow carved out of regret. I wouldn’t let anyone, especially my mother, mess my life up again. Not my relationships. Not my choices. Not my future.If I ever found someone again, if I ever trusted enough to let a woman into my life the way Cassandra had been there, then I would guard it fiercely. I would guard her fiercely. And I would never again allow my mother to turn love into a battlefield.The knock came softly at the door.I opened my eyes and straightened.“Come in,” I called.The door opened, and Doctor Silvia Wallace stepped in. Even in this office, surrounded by royal symbols and security files, she looked like what she was: a doctor. Calm. Professional. Carrying a folder with the weight of medical truth inside it.But I noticed something else immediately.She looked… shy.It was subtle. A slight hesitation before fully entering. Her shoulders held a tension that didn’t belong to someone used to d

Cassandra’s POVBy the time we got back to the palace, my body felt like it had been wrung out and hung up somewhere to dry. It wasn’t even the physical work of the grain distribution that did it, though that had been exhausting in its own right, standing in dust and heat while hungry people pressed against gates, watching soldiers wrestle chaos back into order. It was the emotional whiplash. The way my name had swung from bitch to saviour in less than a day. The way gratitude could sit on top of hatred like a thin sheet of paper, and you still felt the hatred underneath, waiting.And then there was the palace itself. Every corridor here held memory now. Arrests. Whispers. Threats. Doors shutting. Guards dragging. Footage. Accusations. My own footsteps sneaking down halls just to steal a breath with Arden in that old room.I kept my face composed as we walked back into Richard’s wing with my parents, because my mother looked like she might fall apart if she saw me fall apart too. My f