All Chapters of Dear Ex, Kneel And Call Me Your Highness : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Caroline’s POV The crown was heavier than it looked once the cameras were gone. By the time the last of the formal congratulations had been spoken and the great hall had emptied, Caroline’s neck ached and the ivory silk of her gown felt like it belonged to someone else. Tyrone noticed before she said a word. He dismissed the remaining attendants with a single look and guided her through the private corridors that led back to their apartments. Only when the door closed behind them did he reach up and lift the crown from her head. He set it carefully on the side table, then turned and took her face in both hands. “It’s done,” he said. She nodded. The relief was quiet and complete. No triumph. Just the steady knowledge that the people who had tried to pull her backward were finally, permanently, behind her. Tyrone’s hands slid down to her shoulders. “You were steady today. In front of all of them.” “I was terrified.” “I know. You did it anyway.” He kissed her then slow

Caroline “Not too sore,” I whispered, searching his eyes. “Just… tender. In the best way.” His smile was slow and knowing. He pressed one last kiss to the corner of my mouth before sliding out of bed in one fluid motion. I watched the play of muscle across his back as he walked naked across the room, completely unselfconscious. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom. A moment later I heard water running. When he returned, he didn’t bother with a robe. He simply held out his hand. “Come with me.” I slipped my fingers into his and let him pull me to my feet. The cool air kissed my bare skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. He noticed immediately and drew me against his chest, one warm hand splayed across my lower back as he guided me toward the bathroom. Steam already curled against the mirrors. The large freestanding tub was filling with water the color of pale champagne, and floating across the surface were dozens of deep red rose petals. The scent of them mixed

Caroline“So,” Sophie said, voice light and sweet, “are you two going to join me, or should I just make myself at home?”Tyrone glanced at me first. When I gave a small nod, he rose and pulled out a chair for me at the small dining table near the window. Sophie was already uncovering the silver trays, the scent of warm croissants and smoked salmon drifting through the suite. She poured champagne into three flutes without asking, then slid into the seat closest to Tyrone as if it had always been hers.I kept my expression neutral. Calm. Unbothered. Inside, every casual brush of her fingers against his arm felt like a deliberate claim.Sophie buttered a piece of toast and leaned in, her shoulder almost touching his. “So tell me everything. How did you two even meet? It all happened so fast. One minute I’m in Milan shooting for Vogue Italia, the next I hear you’ve gone and gotten married.”Tyrone’s answer was brief. Polite. Careful. “We met through mutual associates. It progressed quick

The palace physician arrived within forty minutes, a composed older man with a leather bag and a quiet authority that filled the guest room the moment he entered. Tyrone remained near the doorway while the doctor examined Sophie, asking measured questions about her flight, the dust at the stables, any history of migraines.Sophie answered in soft, careful tones. She described a sharp pressure behind her eyes, a lingering dizziness, nothing more. When the doctor suggested a mild sedative and complete rest until morning, she accepted with a gracious nod, though her gaze drifted past him toward Tyrone more than once.I stayed in the sitting room, curled on the settee with a cup of ginger tea the staff had brought. The low murmur of voices carried through the open door. Tyrone’s replies were brief. Practical. When the physician finally stepped out and confirmed there was no serious concern, only travel fatigue compounded by mild sinus irritation, Tyrone thanked him and saw him to the ma

Night settled heavily over the estate. I lay awake long after Tyrone’s breathing had deepened beside me, his arm draped possessively across my waist. The guest-room door had closed hours ago. No further sound came from that side of the suite. Still, sleep refused me. Somewhere past two in the morning, a soft creak broke the silence. I opened my eyes. The connecting door to the sitting room stood slightly ajar—wider than I had left it. A pale shape moved in the darkness beyond. Sophie, barefoot, the borrowed silk robe clinging to her frame as she crossed toward the small writing desk where Tyrone had left the evening reports and his private seal. I slipped from the bed without disturbing him, the marble floor cold under my feet. By the time I reached the sitting room, Sophie already held one of the folded documents in her hand, angling it toward the thin moonlight coming through the tall windows. “Looking for something specific?” I asked quietly. She didn’t startle. She only tur