Tempting the Wrong Prince
Her uncle stepped forward, posture stiffening, voice dropping into something colder.
“I dare you to release indecent videos of my niece, Prince,” he said coldly. “Hunger will be the least of Eldenwald’s worries. If you think you can treat her like the slut you borrowed from your brother, whose name is already smeared across the media, then think again.”
The insult hit like a slap.
Not because it wounded my pride, but because it revealed exactly who he was.
Men like him didn’t see women. They saw leverage.
Cassandra was a smear across the media. Nala was a piece on a chessboard. And I, Prince Arden, was either a threat to be controlled or a tool to be forced into position.