Chapter 11
I had once caught a glimpse of the Crown Prince when I accompanied my mother to the Royal Palace. Compared to back
then, he seemed even more fragile now.
But seated at the head of the long table in a tailored black suit, he still exuded a commanding presence.
Yet the first person I noticed wasn’t him-but Damon, sitting calmly to his left.
He wore a charcoal-black tailored jacket, the crisp fabric outlining his broad shoulders and tall frame. Even beside royalty,
he stood out effortlessly.
The moment our eyes met, Damon smiled.
“I told you,” he said lightly. “My wife was just visiting the Princess.”
The Crown Prince turned to me, his tone polite but curious.
“So the lady of house Clark is an old acquaintance of Alexandra’s?”
Princess Alexandra, seated off to the side, wore a complicated expression. She looked at me-half puzzled, half
threatening-then shifted her gaze to Colton.
But Colton looked completely thrown off. He had just bowed, ready to make a good impression in front of the Crown
Prince, trying not to draw attention to me-only for that powerful man beside him to fix his gaze solely on me.
And then he had called me “the lady of house Clark.”
When Alexandra had me detained in her estate, I had been careful not to mention Damon’s name, unwilling to use our
marriage as a shield. I knew our arrangement was one of convenience-I had no right to speak of it, much less involve him in my troubles.
So why was Damon standing there, in front of the most powerful people in the country, claiming me so casually and confidently as his wife?
What would happen when we eventually went our separate ways?
Did he even plan to remarry someday?
Caught in the moment, I stepped forward, curtsied, and said, “Her Highness and I shared a pleasant conversation years ago, when I accompanied my mother on a palace visit.”
“You’re from the Raventon?” the Crown Prince asked. “Which family?”
I looked him in the eye and answered steadily, “The Warren family. My father was Gregory Warren.”
The Prince’s expression froze.
“Warren-wasn’t he…”
“Convicted of conspiracy and stripped of all titles. The entire family was wiped out. I’m the only one who survived. I was sentenced to Camp 47 and forced into a military prostitute. After the victory at the front, His Majesty graciously allowed
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soldiers to take women home-so technically…”
I turned to Colton and gave a soft, practiced smile.
“It was Mr. Prescott himself who signed off on the marriage license between Damon and me.”
“You married him?!”
Colton stepped forward, stunned, his voice shaking.
Alexandra’s voice cut through the tension like a blade: “Colton. My brother is right here. Control yourself.”
Colton clenched his fists and retreated beside her, but his eyes stayed locked on me, as if afraid I’d vanish if he blinked.
The Crown Prince’s face was unreadable. He gave a strained chuckle.
“Well… Mr. Clark certainly follows his heart.”
That was putting it mildly. It was a courtly way of calling him a fool-for marrying a woman like me, someone used to be a
military prostitute.
But Damon didn’t flinch. He looked at me, gaze steady and warm.
“Marrying her was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
He said it with such sincerity, it nearly stole the breath from my lungs.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
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