บททั้งหมดของ Tempting the Wrong Prince: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Cassandra’s POVMorning light crept through the heavy drapes, soft and golden, painting the chamber in a glow that felt almost too gentle for what I carried in my body.My limbs were heavy, the ache of the night lingering in every muscle. I tried to roll away from the warmth beside me, but then I realised I was alone.For a moment, panic spiked in my chest. Had it all been a dream?Arden’s touch, his voice, the way he had looked at me as if I were the only thing that mattered in the world?But then the memories rushed back, vivid and merciless. The press of his body, the way he whispered my name, the way he didn’t let me go until I had nothing left to give.My cheeks heated instantly, and I pressed my palms against them, as if I could smother the blush away.My thighs clenched involuntarily, remembering too clearly the way he had claimed me again and again until I had forgotten where I ended and he began.My God. I could barely think about it without my stomach fluttering and my heart

Arden’s POVThe palace court was already assembled when I entered. The vast chamber, with its high ceilings and gilded arches, seemed to hold its breath as I crossed the marble floor. My boots echoed against the tiles, sharp, deliberate steps that carried me toward my seat at the right of the throne.Eyes followed me. Some wide with fear, others narrowed with resentment. Whispers flitted like gnats, but none dared rise above the silence that pressed heavy across the hall. They all knew better.And at the far end, on the throne itself, my father sat. The king. His gaze was heavy with displeasure, his mouth drawn tight in a line that promised rebuke. But I didn’t falter. I didn’t bow my head. If he wanted me cowed, he would be disappointed.I found my place and sat without a word, my posture one of studied calm. Let them read what they wanted from it. Defiance. Control. A challenge. I didn’t care.Richard and his mother arrived late, slipping in with whispers of apology that sounded reh

Cassandra’s POVThe room was alive with movement.I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as my things were carried from one chamber to another. Maids hurried in and out, arms laden with dresses, jewellery cases, and the stacks of books I had stubbornly clung to even when I had left Richard’s palace. Each item vanished into Arden’s room, our room now.The thought made my stomach twist in two directions at once. Excitement pulsed through me, yes, but nerves tangled themselves around every heartbeat. To share space with him so openly, to have no division between his life and mine, it felt like stepping across a threshold that had no return.I smoothed the blanket beneath me with restless fingers. The television flickered across from me, voices rising and falling, the sharp tone of reporters filling the otherwise quiet chamber. I had turned it on hours ago and hadn’t been able to bring myself to switch it off.Because today, everything would be decided.Today, the court would decide what

Arden’s POVThe morning crept in quietly, shafts of pale light slipping through the curtains and cutting across the room. I had barely slept, though Cassandra’s steady breathing beside me had been a kind of balm. I lay there for a while, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair tumbled across the pillow in soft waves.There was a peace to her face that I hadn’t seen in weeks, and I found myself wishing I could freeze this moment, shield her forever from the storm gathering beyond these walls.The phone on the nightstand vibrated sharply, breaking the silence. I reached for it quickly, careful not to disturb her, and glanced at the screen. Sebastien. My younger brother.I slipped out of bed, answering in a low voice as I moved toward the balcony. “Sebastien.”“Arden,” his voice was brisk, tinged with urgency. “We need you in Belmont. The board has scheduled an emergency session this afternoon. It’s regarding the partnership with Myrth’s president. You know how critical

Cassandra’s POVDiana stood at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed, her brows knit together in that way that always made her look older than she was. Her voice, usually so teasing and irreverent, had sharpened into something almost maternal.“My lady, don’t go,” she urged as I slipped my arms into a pale blue dress. “It’s too soon. The court may have pardoned them, but that doesn’t mean the whispers have died. The queen consort still breathes, and you know what that means.”I paused before the mirror, smoothing the fabric over my hips. Her words lodged themselves deep in my chest, echoing the very fears that had gnawed at me all night. She wasn’t wrong. I was afraid too. Afraid of what I would find. Afraid of being caught, of being paraded again as the fallen wife who had run into another man’s arms. Afraid, most of all, of my father.But what kind of daughter would I be if I stayed hidden? I had not been able to visit them while they were locked away, their names dragged through