I Married the Third Prince
In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman.
After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease.
What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch.
That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload.
My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber.
The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in."
I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?"
Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors.
"Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place."
Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow.
No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.