Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 760 | Released on: 22/01/2026

andle bega

s found here-naked, in the King's suite, after escaping her own engagemen

s down into the deep pile of the rug and threw the rest

or bur

x, the Head of Royal Security, steppe

whiskey in his hand that he must have poured in the split second bef

w rumble, dangerous and calm. "Do you make i

oom. He saw the torn dress on the floor. He saw the lump under the

d from the secur

rimeter alarm... we tho

is drink. "There is no assass

e. "The matter is handled. You will erase the last five minute

le of clothes to

drix. And clo

h the absolute authority of his King. Then, he bowed his head, averted

ked shut. The

r her dress, her hands shaking so hard she could barely hold t

er cameras anyway," Ignatius said. He wasn't looking

ing hand. She found her cashmere scarf on the floor, snatching it up

er," she said, h

path to the balcony. "It matters to me. You break

mbling in her legs. She grabbed a safety pin from a sewing kit on the side tabl

said, meeting his gold e

reached out, his hand hove

the poised, perfect fiancée of Prince Clement. This woman-this wild,

shion magazine lay there. The cover m

lied. "My na

eyebrow. "Gigi. Sou

was your only remedy tonight, Your Majesty

d in his eyes. A

ide. "Before I change my m

errace doors. The cold wind hit her aga

e railing, one l

orgot

g up a pearl earring. It dangled fro

her earlobe.

d out over the wind.

re disappear into the swirling snow. He closed his fist

the name on his tongue. He d

l find

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.”