Becky's POV
I took a deep breath as I ascended the stairs, maids occasionally greeting me as the feeling of the palace's royalty slowly seeped into my bones. The marble floors gleamed beneath my feet, reflecting the sunlight pouring through the stained-glass windows. Everything about this place screamed power.
And I wanted it all.
My head remained high as I walked toward the royal office, fully expecting to spend time with my lover.
Then I froze.
My pupils dilated.
An unpleasant rash crawled across my skin.
I felt sick.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
I forced myself forward, keeping my composure intact as best as I could.
As usual, she was there.
Smiling.
Holding him close.
The sight burned my eyes.
My stomach twisted violently.
Yet I refused to look away.
She couldn't win.
Not after everything.
Not after all the sacrifices I had made.
I straightened my posture and approached them calmly.
Every word that left my mouth was measured and controlled.
I asked to spend more time with him.
Not directly, of course.
That would have been too obvious.
Instead, I suggested remaining in the palace longer.
My eyes never left Derek.
I waited.
And waited.
But he never answered.
Instead, that foul-smelling woman I was expected to call Queen spoke for him.
The smile on her face made me want to scream.
She dismissed me faster than I had approached.
Just like that.
Like I was nothing.
Like I wasn't important.
Like I wasn't a threat.
My nails dug into my palms.
I barely felt the pain.
All I could focus on was him.
Derek.
The way he looked at her.
The way he stood beside her.
The way she occupied a place that should have belonged to me.
The Queen laughed softly at something he said.
The sound grated against my nerves.
I hated it.
I hated her.
I hated the ease with which she touched him.
The ease with which she claimed him.
The worst part?
He allowed it.
There was a time when I believed things would be different.
A time when I believed he would eventually see me.
Choose me.
Need me.
Perhaps that made me foolish.
Perhaps it made me pathetic.
Yet I couldn't stop hoping.
No matter how much I tried.
No matter how many times reality slapped me across the face.
My gaze lingered on him.
For a brief moment, memories resurfaced.
The first time I truly noticed him.
The first time his smile reached his eyes.
The first time he made me forget my own problems.
Back then, I hadn't realized how dangerous those feelings would become.
Love was supposed to be beautiful.
Instead, it had become a prison.
An obsession.
A disease that refused to leave my body.
I wanted him.
The thought alone felt intoxicating.
I wanted him to look at me the way he looked at her.
I wanted him to choose me.
And for the first time in a very long while, I found myself wondering whether I would ever be satisfied until that happened.
I forced a smile onto my face and walked away.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
The moment I was alone, the smile vanished.
Change of plans then.
A mischievous grin slowly formed across my lips.
Let's travel.
Let's have some fun.
A few hours later, I stepped out of the plane.
Cool air brushed against my skin.
My hair danced gracefully in the wind like that of a model in a magazine.
I closed my eyes briefly and admired the scenery.
"Such a beautiful view," I muttered.
Perfect for a honeymoon.
"Drive me to my house, if you may."
I entered the vehicle and relaxed into the seat.
For the first time all day, I felt slightly better.
Then a familiar voice ruined everything.
"You seem to really want this honeymoon to occur."
I nearly jumped out of my seat.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Let me help you."
I turned sharply.
There he was.
Irritation exploded inside me.
"I told you to stay out of my business," I snapped. "Why are you here? More importantly, how are you here? Appearing from thin air is not very ideal."
He chuckled.
The sound alone made my blood boil.
"I go wherever I please," he replied.
His eyes were cold.
Empty.
"And I do whatever I please."
Then he leaned closer.
"No little queen gets in my way."
Heat rushed into my face.
The way he constantly treated me like a child made me want to strangle him.
"Have you no respect for your mother, child?" I asked coldly. "You can't keep insulting me."
His expression changed instantly.
The atmosphere inside the vehicle became suffocating.
His head snapped toward me.
Veins protruded from his neck.
"Mothers don't abandon their children in gutters during a war."
His voice was frighteningly calm.
"You lost that title a long time ago."
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Then I smiled.
"Grow up."
His jaw tightened.
"Still holding onto that grievance?"
I laughed softly.
"Strong men don't feel, do they?"
For a moment, I thought he might attack me.
Instead, he opened the door and stepped out.
"My offer still stands."
Those were his final words.
I watched him disappear.
Something dark flashed through my eyes.
He should have died back then.
"Drive."
The chauffeur immediately obeyed.
I had more important matters to handle.
The Iranian conference had failed.
The Queen had interfered.
Again.
And now my employers were demanding answers.
That meeting was far worse than I expected.
The moment I entered the room, I knew I was in trouble.
"You had one simple task."
The voice sent chills through my body.
"Frustrate their plans."
Slow footsteps echoed around me.
"Create discord."
The man circled me like a predator.
My heartbeat thundered inside my chest.
"What exactly did you do?"
I couldn't answer.
Because I already knew.
I had failed.
He stopped moving.
Then growled.
A genuinely animalistic sound.
"You fell in love with him."
The accusation struck harder than any weapon.
He raised a gun.
Pointing it directly at my face.
My entire body froze.
He began counting.
Slowly.
One.
Two.
Three.
I shook my head violently.
"Please don't."
The gun fired.
The explosion echoed throughout the building.
Pain exploded across my cheek.
I collapsed.
Tears filled my eyes.
The bullet had merely grazed me.
For a second, I couldn't understand what had happened.
The room spun violently.
My ears rang.
I touched my cheek.
My fingers came away stained.
Blood.
The sight made my stomach twist.
Not because I was injured.
Because I had almost died.
Death had brushed against me.
Close enough for me to feel its breath.
My entire body shook.
Fear.
Raw, humiliating fear.
I hated it.
I hated feeling weak.
I hated feeling helpless.
Most of all, I hated the realization that my life was worth absolutely nothing to the people I served.
If he had moved the gun a little further, I would already be dead.
Gone.
Forgotten.
Replaced.
The thought terrified me more than the weapon itself.
For all my ambition, all my schemes, all my plans, I was still expendable.
Just another piece on somebody else's board.
Then laughter erupted.
Loud.
Cruel.
Merciless.
"Pathetic."
He grabbed my hair violently.
Pain shot through my scalp.
His teeth brushed against my ear.
"One more mistake."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And you'll be the dead one."
Then he released me.
Cleaning his hands as though touching me had disgusted him.
Moments later, he was gone.
I remained on the floor.
Broken.
Humiliated.
Furious.
A scream tore from my throat.
I destroyed everything within reach.
Tables.
Chairs.
Glass.
Anything.
Everything.
Yet none of it helped.
Because the truth remained the same.
I was still a puppet.
Just like always.
I sank into the wreckage around me.
Glass crunched beneath my shoes.
The room looked as broken as I felt.
How had everything become so complicated?
When had I lost control?
I had started this journey wanting power.
Wanting influence.
Wanting a throne.
Somewhere along the way, Derek had become the center of everything.
Every decision.
Every risk.
Every mistake.
Even now, after being threatened with death, my thoughts kept returning to him.
It was ridiculous.
Infuriating.
Yet I couldn't stop.
His face haunted me.
His voice haunted me.
Even his rejection haunted me.
Perhaps I was losing my mind.
Or perhaps I had already lost it.
And the worst part?
I still wanted Derek.
Desperately.
Obsessively.
Dangerously.
The desire consumed me.
Like poison.
Like addiction.
Like madness.