Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

Arden’s POVThe jet touched down earlier than expected, its wheels hitting Eldenwald soil with a heavy, bone-deep thud that rattled through the cabin and through my chest. The sky outside was still dark, that indigo-blue hour before sunrise, where everything felt suspended, not night, not morning, just a silence that pressed against the windows like a warning.I should have slept. I should have eaten. I should have done something to prepare myself.Anything.But there was no rest for a man who feared what he would find when he came home.I came straight from the airport, no entourage, no ceremonial welcome, no procession. The palace wasn’t expecting me until tomorrow afternoon. Which meant no one knew I was coming, and no one had time to prepare excuses or lies or polished royal statements.All they would have was the truth.My driver kept talking as we approached the gates, something about staff waiting, security arrangements, a message from the steward, but his voice became nothin

Richard’s POVI didn’t sleep.I lay beside her the entire night, my eyes fixed on the darkness while the woman I loved slept with her back to me, as far away as possible without falling off the bed. The room was cold, but the cold between us was worse.The mattress was large enough to swallow us both, yet it felt like a battleground with an invisible line neither of us dared cross. I could feel her quiet breaths, steady, fragile, distant. Every time she shifted, even slightly, my heart jumped, hoping she might look at me, speak to me, say something, anything.But she didn’t.She hadn’t eaten the kremówka I brought her. She hadn’t taken a sip of water. She hadn’t said a single word after breaking down on the balcony. And I hadn’t dared touch her, not even to tuck her hair behind her ear, not even to wipe the dried tears from her cheeks.I had locked her in the room we shared as husband and wife. It was our bed. Our space. It made sense for her to sleep there.But nothing felt like ours

Richard’s POV“My wife hates me,” I whispered before I even realised I had spoken.“She clearly does,” he replied, blunt and merciless. “Which is why she went to your brother.”That cut through me like a blade.A slow, deep ache opened beneath my ribs, the kind that travelled upward and tightened around my throat. I dragged in a shaky breath, but even that felt like a struggle.He rested a hand briefly, almost awkwardly, on my shoulder.“Richard… it is obvious Cassandra does not want reconciliation. And since you will be the future king, you need to cut your losses.”I jerked back from him, disbelief snapping inside me like brittle glass.Cut my losses?He wanted me to treat my marriage like a failed investment? Something to discard once the returns stopped being convenient?His eyes didn’t soften. Not even a fraction.“Let her go while you can still keep her friendship,” he continued, voice maddeningly calm. “That is the best option for you. If she ever wants to return in the future,

Cassandra’s POVDiana continued carefully, “They say… that’s why he travelled there. To meet her.”Her words drifted through the room like smoke, thin, suffocating, impossible to grasp yet impossible to escape.I stared at her, unable to process it.Everything felt wrong.The light pouring through the tall palace windows felt too bright, almost accusing. The room felt too quiet, holding its breath like it knew something I didn’t. And the air, God, the air, felt too small to breathe.Arden… engaged?The thought didn’t slam into me violently. It did the opposite. It slipped in quietly and lodged itself deep inside me. A precise, silent crack, like the first hairline fracture in a glass before it shatters completely.I felt the break happening in real time.Diana moved closer and sat beside me with the kind of caution people use around wounded animals.“What will you do,” she asked softly, “if he settles with her? If he… marries his fiancée? Will you remain by his side?”My throat tighte

Arden’s POVA soft, gentle knock.Not the kind Richard’s guards used, those heavy, arrogant thuds meant to announce dominance.Not the crisp, rhythmic tapping of a court messenger delivering bad news wrapped in polished formality.This knock was measured. Respectful. Almost hesitant.My butler.“Your Highness,” she called from the doorway, voice quiet but steady, “you have… a visitor.”I frowned, straightening slightly.“A visitor?”Very few people dared come here uninvited. My villa sat far from the palace, tucked into the quieter edge of the royal estate, by my choice, not the King’s. It was known, silently enforced, that if anyone needed me, they were to request an audience through official channels at court. They were not to intrude on my sanctuary.“For once,” I muttered under my breath, “life becomes more interesting.”Aloud, I said, “Send them in.”She bowed, her expression unreadable, and stepped aside.The door opened wider.A man stepped in.Tall. Cleanly dressed. Black coat