Chapter 489

Nathan Goldmann's gaze remained fixed on the computer screen. The sparse information displayed about "Alice" frustrated him—no photograph, barely any details.

His phone buzzed. A message from Wesley Donovan, an old friend still in Stoslo.

Several days ago...

The refusal of Mr. Henry's daughter, Alice Henry, to meet Prince Reginald's representatives had sparked outrage.

On one side stood the daughter of a man whose influence rivaled the royal family's in Morwich. On the other, a prince of Stoslo. Few dared snub royalty so blatantly.

Though, to be fair, Alice hadn't rejected the royal family's formal invitation—only the prince's presumptuous demands.

The grand white parlor glittered under crystal chandeliers. Maids stood at attention, serving tea with practiced grace. Queen Annabelle, in her fifties, carried herself with the poise of the Miller bloodline. Her amber eyes held a familiarity that unsettled Evelyn.

This wasn't Evelyn's first royal audience. Nine years ago, as the designer Zara, she'd met the queen's daughter to discuss a Victorian-style tiara for her wedding.

But facing Queen Annabelle directly was different. The woman radiate elegance—and something sharper beneath.

"You remind me of someone, Ms. Alice."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her teacup. "Oh?"

"Lord Harrison's granddaughter."

A faint smile touched Evelyn's lips. "How observant. She was my mother."

Queen Annabelle's cup clinked against its saucer. "You're Harrison's blood?"

Evelyn nodded.

"Now I understand why you're helping him." The queen set her tea aside.

Evelyn's jaw clenched. After a beat, she asked, "What do you know?"

Annabelle's laugh was light, almost mocking. "Everything my uncle does. The de Armas were once our most loyal supporters. After Harrison's father died? They withdrew completely."

A shadow crossed the queen's face. Evelyn stayed silent. These royal confidences weren't meant for outsiders—yet Annabelle kept talking.

The palace's gilded facade hid rot. Power struggles consumed them all, royalty or not.

Annabelle wasn't idle. She simply lacked Reginald's resources.

Evelyn emerged into the palace gardens where Sadie waited.

"Miss, Mr. Henry insists you attend tonight's banquet. It's critical—the Ashton Group's new president, Wesley Donovan, will be there. His father sits in Stoslo's congress. With elections coming, Reginald will court him aggressively. If you want to aid the de Armas, you must secure Donovan first."

"Partnership?" Evelyn arched a brow.

Sadie nodded. "Donovan's integrity makes him pivotal. Reginald plans to stack the government with loyalists. Mr. Henry believes—"

"I've offended the prince already," Evelyn mused. Her repeated refusals had been deliberate provocations.

Reginald's restraint puzzled her. Sebastian's protection? Possibly.

But Evelyn wasn't waiting passively. She needed Reginald arrogant, overconfident—vulnerable.

Her grandfather remained missing. Yet having entered this game, retreat wasn't an option.

Forward was the only path left.