Morning light filtered through the tall glass windows of the Adekule mansion, casting golden shadows on the marble floor. The family sat in the grand drawing room, the walls lined with oil paintings and velvet drapes. Elias stood tall by the fireplace, dressed sharply in a grey tailored suit, a cigar resting in one hand—though he hadn't lit it yet. The room was unusually quiet.
"I had a very productive conversation with King Robbert Theodore Volemont last night," Elias began, voice thick with pride. "We spoke business, politics… legacy."
Toby shifted impatiently in his chair. "What's that got to do with us?"
Elias turned, the corner of his mouth lifting into a sly smile. "Everything, son. Because soon, we—the Martin Adekule family—will be the in-laws of the royal house of Volemont."
A stunned silence followed.
Only Lilian looked unfazed, swirling her morning tea with slow elegance, her eyes half-lidded as if this news barely registered. She always did know how to play her part.
"What?" Israel snapped, sitting forward. "Who?"
Toby's chest puffed. "Am I getting married to the Princess of Edevora?"
Of course. Toby, with his hazelnut skin, chiseled jawline, and those full, pink lips that made women weak in the knees, believed he was destined for royalty. A slow grin stretched across his face.
"I knew I was the one with charm," he said smugly. "Makes sense, honestly."
Elias cut him off with a sharp look. "No, you are not. Jahzara is."
The words struck like thunder.
Jahzara blinked, mouth slightly open. "What?"
"You, my dear," Elias said, walking toward her with a gleam in his eyes, "are going to be the next Queen of Edevora."
Toby and Isreal looked as if someone had punched them. Lilian sipped her tea, unbothered, as if she'd known all along—and she had.
"I—" Jahzara stammered, her voice catching in her throat.
Elias reached for her hand, guiding her to stand beside him. She moved like a puppet, strings pulled by shock.
"My brilliant, beautiful daughter. You've made me proud," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder as if claiming a prize. "Next week, you'll be married to Prince Lucien of Volemont."
Her ears rang. Next week? Married?
She glanced at her mother, whose face wore that same cryptic smile—cold, perfect, distant. A look that said: This is happening. You don't get a say.
Suddenly, all the pieces snapped together.
The king's birthday. Her father's sudden praise. That rare, too-wide smile. The polite words and the unearned compliments. He hadn't been proud of her—he'd been positioning her. Not as his daughter. As a pawn. A move in his never-ending game of power.
She felt the floor slipping beneath her.
"No," she whispered, voice trembling.
She turned and bolted up the stairs, satin robe trailing behind her. Elias called after her, but she didn't stop.
In her room, she slammed the door shut and collapsed against it, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her chest ached with confusion, betrayal… heartbreak.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Zara, it's your mother."
Jahzara didn't respond. Lilian entered anyway, closing the door gently behind her.
She stood there in her silk blouse and pearl earrings, the picture of quiet control.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Jahzara's voice cracked.
"It wasn't my place," Lilian replied calmly.
"You're my mother."
"I'm also your father's wife."
The words were a blade. Jahzara stared at her, disbelief mixing with rage. "So you just… watched this happen?"
Lilian walked toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. "Your father has plans, Jahzara. He always has. You know how he is."
"I know he doesn't love me," she shot back. "Not like he loves Toby or Isreal. And you… you've never defended me. Not once."
Lilian looked down at her hands, fingers tightening around each other. "I've done what I could."
"No, you've done what made him happy," Jahzara said bitterly. "Even if it meant keeping your distance from me. Even if it meant letting me grow up alone."
Lilian's eyes flicked upward, but there was no apology in them. Only weariness. "Your father… was never the same after you were born."
"Because I was a girl."
Lilian didn't deny it.
"I gave him a daughter first," she said softly, "when he was expecting a son to carry his legacy. It created a wound between us. I spent years trying to fix it… giving him two boys after you."
"And letting me be forgotten."
"I made sure you had everything you needed."
"Except love," Jahzara whispered.
Lilian sighed. "It's not as simple as you think, Zara. Power is earned in sacrifice."
Jahzara stared at her mother. "You really believe that, don't you?"
Lilian stood up, straightening her blouse. "This marriage will give you something you've never had—real power. Not gifts. Not dresses. Power that makes kings bow. You're strong enough to carry a crown, even if you don't believe it yet."
She walked toward the door, paused, and turned back. "Let the tears fall tonight. But when morning comes, stand tall. Queens don't break."
Then she left.
---
Downstairs, Elias was pacing the drawing room, fingers steepled beneath his chin. When Lilian entered, he turned to her with eager eyes.
"Well?" he asked.
"She's shaken," Lilian replied, pouring herself another glass of wine. "But she'll fall in line."
Elias exhaled in satisfaction and sat down beside her.
"I've waited years for this," he murmured. "To finally merge my legacy with the most powerful kingdom in Europe. She'll thank me one day."
Lilian looked over her glass. "Don't forget, Elias—she's not like the boys."
"I know," he said, smiling. "That's what makes her perfect."
He leaned back, sipping his whiskey, eyes gleaming with ambition.
"She's my daughter, after all."