Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 807 | Released on: 22/01/2026

t jarred

n shot up her shins, sharp and bright, momentarily cutting through the chemical

ast by a large stone planter. Her heart hammered against h

Thump

one. Heavy.

uard passing the interior window. He paused, adjusting his rifle, his gaze swee

until her lungs burn

into molten lead. The snow beneath her bare feet was melting, creating a puddle of freezing slush, b

s. The handle was cold brass. Locked? No.

ng the door softly behind

expensive scotch, and the distinct, metallic scent of ozon

o the floor, the silk of her dress pooling around her. The room was dark, lit on

. She needed to stop the fire co

e fabric felt abrasive, like sandpaper against raw ner

hy I shouldn't put a

avel grinding over velvet. It wasn't a question; it w

steel press against the base of her sku

ded armies. The voice that had declared war and s

natius

distant, terrifying figure of absolute authority. No

frantic, chemical need for touch. The cold metal of the gun barrel wasn't a threat;

beg. She di

s tu

d off her skull as she spun around, throwing her weig

e. He was like a statu

a dress shirt. Beneath it, she felt the heat of his body, the steady,

, inhaling the scent of him. It

chest and into her cheek. His hand came up, gripping her

around her face, her lipstick smudged, her

d. Her voice was wrecke

der tightened, but he

-predatory, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy. But as they locked o

the look of a

ower the gun, but he shifted his stance, his body tense, re

e plush carpet. She pressed closer, seeking the fric

lips brushing the rough stub

Chapter End

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Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King

Johan Gorski Modern

“It was the night of the Winter Chalet Gala, the most prestigious event of the year and the night my life was officially supposed to begin. I was the perfect socialite, a Senator's golden daughter, and the fiancée of Prince Clement. Then my sister, Bailee, handed me a glass of champagne with a sweet, innocent smile. "Just a sip for luck, big sister." Within minutes, my blood turned into liquid fire. In my past life, I didn't realize that "luck" was a drug designed to strip me of my dignity. I had stumbled into a hallway where a planted stranger waited for the paparazzi to catch us. The scandal was the first nail in my coffin. My family disowned me, my fiancé abandoned me for my sister, and I eventually ended the nightmare by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. I died in the freezing bay, realizing too late that my sister's love was a death sentence and my parents had already replaced me. The betrayal felt like swallowing broken glass, a pain more suffocating than the salt water that eventually claimed my lungs. Why did the people I loved want me dismantled? Why was my suicide their only version of mercy? Opening my eyes again, I was back on that snowy balcony three years ago. The iridescent pearl manicure was back on my fingers, and the drug was already screaming in my veins. But I won't be the carcass for the vultures this time. I kicked off my heels and climbed the stone railing, looking toward the forbidden Royal Wing. I'm not going back to the trap. I'm going to the only man powerful enough to burn them all: King Ignatius Fisher.”