The Campbell family's collective breath caught as they entered the palace's vaulted throne room. Even Ryan—accustomed to being the jewel of the household—gripped his mother's sleeve with uncharacteristic nerves. "Mother." He whispered, voice cracking, "What if Evelyn uses her royal member's position to bully me?"
Cassie's fingers tightened around her son's shoulder and comforted. "That mongrel could wear the crown itself and still answer to your father." She comforted Ryan, lips barely moving beneath her smile. "Remember—her power begins and ends with Campbell blood, and you, my love, will always be the most valued one here in Campbell's."
Ryan was relieved at this and lifted his head to resume his usual arrogant appearance.
Center Stage
All eyes turned toward the ceremony platform where Prince Werner stood flanked by priests, his expression as inscrutable as the marble statues lining the hall. At the far end of the jewel-strewn carpet, Evelyn trembled faintly on Herbert's arm—a vision in white silk, though her knuckles had gone pale where they gripped her father's sleeve.
The orchestra swelled. Herbert stepped forward with uncharacteristic vigor, his chest puffed out beneath his medals. For once, the Earl wasn't just another noble—he was the man who'd given the kingdom its crown princess. The approving murmurs of dukes and foreign ambassadors went to his head like strong wine.
Evelyn, meanwhile, measured each step like a prisoner approaching the gallows. The weight of hundreds of assessing stares prickled along her skin—some curious, others openly hostile. Yet when her gaze finally lifted to meet her groom's, something unexpected happened.
The prince's eyes weren't cold as she remembered.
Prince Werner looked at the approaching Evelyn with a bit of amazement in his eyes instead, he didn't expect Evelyn to be so radiant after dressing up properly.
Seeing Werner standing the end of the carpet, Evelyn's next step came easier.
"This is my choice." She realized and talked to herself, the epiphany sweet and terrifying.
Not just Father's. Not just the crown's. Mine.
By the time they reached the dais, Evelyn's chin had risen of its own accord.
Let the court whisper. Let her family scheme. Today, she walked into this gilded cage with both eyes open.
As the two young people face each other, Werner's pulled Evelyn's hand from Herbert's grasp. The prince studied his bride with the detached interest of a jeweler appraising a suspect stone, but his smile never reaching his eyes.
"My deepest gratitude, Father-in-law," Werner purred, the honorific dripping with venomous amusement. "For such... meticulous arrangements."
This tone full of sarcasm made Herbert's heart tremble, he realised his trick was seen through completely by Prince Werner made him at a loss. Yet at this moment, he had no choice but to pretend to be calm, smile and leave frightenedly.
The priest then announces that Werner and Evelyn are now husband and wife.
The thunderous applause that followed the king and queen's gift presentation was a masterclass in courtly pretense. Crystal glasses clinked in perfect harmony, masking the discord simmering beneath gilded smiles. For one suspended moment, even Herbert Campbell dared to breathe - the carefully constructed illusion of familial bliss had held.
Eden Von watched from the shadows as Werner embraced their father, his half-brother's face alight with performative joy. The golden embroidery on Werner's coat caught the candlelight as he moved, each thread gleaming like another link in his chain of favor.
"What a bootlicker." Eden muttered into his wine, the vintage suddenly bitter on his tongue.
Upon hearing this, William—the second son of the late Empress and Werner's full brother—raised his glass without invitation, clinking it against Eden's with deliberate insolence. His eyes gleamed with smug provocation as he met Eden's displeased glare.
"Eden, show some respect. This bootlicker is the Crown Prince, after all."
He immediately covered his mouth in exaggerated remorse, though laughter still danced in his gaze.
"Oops, my apologies. I shouldn't have said that. It's just… you work so hard, so diligently, yet Father always favors Werner. Doesn't that sting?"
With a mocking pat on Eden's shoulder, he sauntered off, wine in hand, toward Werner, who was basking in the crowd's admiration.
Eden's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. A sharp glance from across the room froze him—his mother, Sita, frowned in warning, her subtle headshake a silent command: Control yourself.
He exhaled through gritted teeth and forced himself back into his seat.
Then came the soft, lilting voice of his sister, Melody, from her wheelchair.
"You always let them get under your skin. No wonder Werner outmaneuvers you at every turn."
Eden's gaze cut to her, icy and dismissive. A cruel smirk twisted his lips before he spat, "Stay in your place, cripple."
Melody's face stiffened—but only for a moment. Then she sighed, her expression smoothing into weary resignation.
She was used to it.