bChapter /bb171 /b

    Mi’s POV

    The cake teetered, a trembling tower of sugar and cream. I watched, almost helpless, as the knife sank into its softyers.

    “Watch out!” A maid shouted, but it was toote.

    The next thing I knew, the tenyer monstrosity was tumbling down, a heap of frosting and cake mming onto my head.

    “АНИН!”

    The scream erupted from my throat, louder than I intended, but it didn’t matter. The jam and cream sttered everywhere–on me, on bthe /bfloor. My gown, the one I’d picked with such pride, was now a mess of sticky, ruined fabric.

    The guests were silent for a breath, then a soft gasp rippled through the crowd. Some took a step back, clearly terrified of the mess, others murmured among themselves, trying to make sense of it.

    But Lance? He looked at me, his expression pure disdain. He turned away without a second thought.

    “Sir Alden,” Lance called, his voice low and clipped, “Let’s move away from this disaster. We can’t have the cream getting on your shoes.”

    “Wait.” Sir Alden bent down, grabbing something from the wreckage. His eyes narrowed at what he held–a crumpled piece of paper.

    “A paper?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “What’s this doing in the cake?”

    Sir Alden wiped the cream off it, presenting it to the crowd. “It’s a photo. Oh, a very… interesting one.”

    Guests crowded around, their curiosity piqued. Even Lance leaned in to take a closer look.

    Then came the sharp intake of breath. And suddenly, the room went cold.

    The photo was unmistakable. It was me. In bed. With a man. A middle–aged man, no less. His hand fisted in my hair, his body pressing against

    mine in the most degrading way possible.

    A scream tore through the crowd.

    “Oh, my God! Is that…?” One woman gasped, covering her eyes, her voice filled with disgust.

    “Is that Queen Mi?” someone else whispered in horror. “It’s her.”

    The chaos grew louder. People scrambled for the photos scattered across the floor, trying to collect as much evidence as they could. My face flushed with horror, my stomach churning.

    I reached down, grabbing a photo from the ground. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’tb, /bbut my hands betrayed me. I saw it–more of the same.

    More of the man. More of me.

    “No!” My voice cracked as I screamed. “STOP! This is private! I order you to stop!”

    But no one cared. No one was listening.

    I tried to grab a photo from a guest’s hand, but my feet slipped in bthe /bmess of cake. I went down hard, face first onto bthe /bcold, bsticky /bbfloor/b.

    Pain radiated through my body, but it didn’t matter. No one offered a hand. No one cared.

    b1/3 /b

    b10:26 /bbMon/b, 11 bAug /bO

    Chapter b171 /b

    bThe /bballroom was no longer a ce of celebration. It was a warzone.

    “Look at this!” someone shouted, holding up another picture. “They’re having an orgy!”

    I couldn’t breathe. The whispers. The rumors. They were tearing me apart.

    But then came a voice–a maid’s voice, shaking but clear.

    “Wait…” She gasped, her eyes wide as she stared at one of the photos. “I know him. That’s one of the Direstone Pack elders.b” /b

    The room fell silent. Every gaze shifted to the maid.

    “He’s married. He has three kids!” she continued, her voice trembling.

    Sir Alden stepped forward, his gaze cold. “Are you

    sure?”

    “Yes,” the maid stammered. “Before I became a rogue, I worked in his house. His wife suspected him of cheating. She thought one of the maids was… with him. She fired all of us. I had to leave my home… and be a rogue.”

    Her eyes turned dark as she red at me.

    “It was you, wasn’t it?” she spat, venom in her words. “You ruined my life. I lost everything because of you. You slept with him. You… you

    whore!”

    The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath faltered. “Shut your mouth,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “I can do whatever i

    want.”

    But the maid wasn’t done.

    “My mistress lost her baby because of that affair!” she screamed. “You have blood on your hands!”

    My body swayed, and for a moment, I thought I might copse. The walls were closing in.

    I heard the whispers again, louder now, a hum of judgment. But I wasn’t done.

    Desperate, I crawled toward Lance, my knees skidding on

    floor, my gown in tatters. I grabbed his pants, my fingers trembling.

    “My King,” I whispered through gritted teeth, my eyes wide with pleading, “Don’t listen to them, Yes, I have a past. But everyone does! My love for you… my past doesn’t change that.”

    Lance didn’t look at me. He shoved me away with a force that made me stumble.

    “Get your filthy hands off me,” he growled, disgustcing his voice.

    Sir Alden’s voice cut through the air, cold and unforgiving. “But your past, Mi, says something about your character. Are you really willing to stand by someone like this?”

    Lance nced at me. I was a mess, my face covered in cream, my gown destroyed. I was nothing more than a heap bof /bruin on the floor.

    “No…” I breathed, my voice raw with panic. “I’m not an adulterer. I-

    “Yes, you are!” Lance snapped, his face contorted in fury. “You brought shame upon me–on all of us! I should have you hanged bfor /bbthis/bb!/bb” /bThe words stung like a p. I froze, the full weight of my disgrace crashing down on me.

    This was supposed to be the day I finally had everything. A powerful husband. A crown. A wedding bto /bbbe /brememberedb. /bbI /bbhad /bbworked /bbmy /bbway /b

    b10:26 /bbMon/bb, /bb11 /bbAug /bboro /b

    bup /bfrom nothing. From a ve to a Queen.

    But now, it was all falling apart. The dream I had fought for… slipping through my fingers.

    I raised my head, my mind racing. “Then how are you any better, Lance? Huh?” I sneered, the anger building in my chestb. /bb“/bbYou /bbthink /bbyou’re /babove me? You’ve fucked every woman in this pce. You’re a dog, Lance.”

    The guests gasped. Lance’s eyes darkened, his face a mask of rage.

    “What the hell did you just say?” he spat, his voice low and dangerous.

    “You think I didn’t know?” Iughed bitterly. “How many maids have you slept with, Lance? I iknow/i. You’re no better than me. You’re ba /bhypocrite. A fucking dog.”

    The crowd was in shock. Lance was shaking with fury.

    “I am the King!” he shouted, his voice booming. “I can do whatever I want. A night with the King is the best thing that’s ever happened bto /bthose women.”

    “Then I’m the Queen,” I shot back, my voice strong despite the terror in my chest. “If you can fuck around, so can bI./bb” /b

    Lance raised his hand, his palm aimed at my face.

    The p was brutal.

    “You were Queen because I made you that way,” he hissed, his voice full of venom. “But you’re nothing now.”

    He turned to the guards, his ivoice /iringing withmand.

    “Take her away!” Lance barked.

    The guards rushed forward, their hands grabbing me as I screamed. I kicked and fought, but it was useless.

    “No!” I cried, my voice cracking. “You can’t do this! I’m your Queen!”

    But it didn’t matter. They dragged me away, my parents following behind, their ifaces /ifilled with helpless despair.

    The night ended in chaos.

    Lance had already fled the ballroom, not wanting to face the mockery of his subjects,

    I stood there, defeated.

    The evening had started as my triumph.

    Now it was my undoing

    AD

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