Marco’s POV
My father's frustration reached its boiling point, his face contorted with anger and disappointment. In a fit of rage, he raised his hand and delivered a stinging slap across my face. The room fell silent, the echo of the impact lingering in the air.
Shock and pain washed over me as I clutched my cheek, my eyes welling up with tears. The emotional turmoil I had been wrestling with suddenly transformed into a seething anger. The weight of his expectations, the years of feeling controlled, had finally reached its breaking point.
"You dare strike me?" I hissed through gritted teeth, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I won't be treated like a puppet any longer. I deserve respect, Father, as your son and as a human being."
My father's expression wavered between remorse and defiance, but I was no longer willing to bear witness to his volatile emotions. Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest.
As I walked through the hallways of our opulent estate, the weight of my father's actions bore down upon me. The sting of the slap reverberated through my entire being, fueling a burning determination to forge my own path, away from the toxic cycle of control and manipulation.
Anger swirled within me, mingling with the hurt and betrayal. How could my father, the man who should have been my guide and support, resort to such violence? It was a painful reminder that our relationship had been damaged beyond repair.
As I reached the entrance of the estate, I paused, taking in a deep breath to steady myself. The cool breeze brushed against my face, offering a momentary respite from the turmoil within. I knew that walking away meant severing ties with my family and the wealth that had surrounded me all my life, but the cost of remaining within that suffocating environment was far too high.
Gathering my resolve, I whispered to myself, "I will build my own legacy, free from the chains of my father's expectations. I will find my purpose and create a life that is true to who I am."
With each step I took away from the grand estate, I felt a sense of liberation washing over me. The weight of my father's demands, the weight of a legacy that did not align with my dreams, lifted from my shoulders.
In that moment, I knew that I had chosen the path of self-discovery and authenticity. It would be a challenging journey, filled with uncertainties, but it was a journey that I had to embark on to reclaim my identity and find true happiness.
As I walked into the world beyond my father's reach, I carried with me a renewed sense of purpose and determination. No longer defined by his expectations, I would carve out my own destiny, guided by my own passions and values.
The pain of the slap still lingered, a painful reminder of the fractured relationship with my father. But I vowed to myself that I would heal, that I would not let his actions define me. I would find the strength to create a life of my own choosing, where love, respect, and personal fulfillment would be the guiding principles.
Scarlett’s POV
As I stood hidden behind the corner, my eyes strained to catch every word of the heated exchange between Macro and his father. The weight of their conversation pressed upon me, overwhelming my heart with a mixture of sadness and anger. It was in that moment that the harsh truth settled within me like a heavy stone: I had been nothing more than a pawn in Macro's relentless pursuit of political ambition.
A surge of emotions threatened to spill over as tears welled up in my eyes. I grappled with the magnitude of Macro's deception, realizing that our marriage, the sacred vows we had shared, had been tarnished by his ulterior motives. The pain of this revelation cut deep, tearing at the core of my being. How could my love and commitment have meant so little to him? How could he have manipulated our union for the sole purpose of appeasing his father?
As I struggled to make sense of the betrayal, a mix of heartache and resentment coursed through my veins. The promises we had made to each other, the dreams we had shared, had been nothing more than a charade. It was a devastating blow to my faith in our relationship, a realization that shattered the foundation upon which our love had been built.
The tears streamed down my face, an outward expression of the pain and anguish that consumed me. I felt a profound sense of loss, mourning not only for the love I thought we had, but for the person I had believed Macro to be. The depth of his deceit left an indelible mark on my heart, eroding the trust I had placed so wholeheartedly in him.
As the conversation between Macro and his father escalated, I could sense the deep-rooted frustration and yearning for independence in Macro's voice. The slap across his face echoed through the corridor, and I felt a surge of anger rise within me. How could his father resort to such violence? How could Macro bear the weight of his father's expectations for so long?
As Macro stormed out of the room, his footsteps growing louder with each passing moment, I braced myself for the encounter that awaited us. The pain in my heart mingled with a burning anger that had been ignited by the revelation of Macro's true intentions.
When he finally emerged from the grand estate, his face etched with a mix of determination and vulnerability, I couldn't contain my anger any longer. I stepped forward, blocking his path, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration.
"How could you, Macro?" I spat out, my voice laced with disappointment. "I thought our love was genuine, that our marriage meant something to you. But all along, it was just a charade to please your father, wasn't it?"
Macro's gaze met mine, his eyes filled with regret and sorrow. "Scarlett, please understand. I never meant to hurt you. I was lost, trapped in the expectations forced upon me."
His words fell flat, failing to provide the solace I desperately sought. "Lost? Trapped? Is that what you call it? You used me, Macro. You used our love to further your own ambitions, and it breaks my heart."
Tears streamed down my face as the weight of the betrayal settled upon me. I had believed in our love, in the promises we had made to each other. But now, it felt like a cruel illusion, shattered by the reality of his actions.
"I can't be with someone who sees me as nothing more than a pawn in their political game," I said, my voice quivering with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I deserve better, Macro. I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I can offer them."
Macro reached out, his hand trembling, but I stepped back, avoiding his touch. The hurt ran deep, and forgiveness seemed like an unattainable horizon.
"I don't expect you to understand now," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "But please know that I never meant to hurt you. I was trapped in a world of expectations, but I'm determined to break free and find my own path."
His words hung in the air, but they offered little comfort. The damage had been done, and trust, once broken, was not easily repaired.
“What was I going to do?”, I thought….
Marco’s POV As Scarlett's words echoed in my mind, guilt and remorse washed over me like a relentless tide. I watched as she walked away, her figure slowly fading into the distance, and the weight of my deception settled upon my shoulders. I felt a mixture of sadness, regret, and an overwhelming desire to make things right. I had lied to Scarlett, kept her in the dark about the true nature of our marriage. I had failed to reveal the underlying motive behind our union – my father's political ambitions. The realization of my actions pierced through me like a thousand needles, each one reminding me of the pain I had caused her. As I stood there, lost in my thoughts, the grand estate surrounding me felt cold and empty. The opulence that once held allure now seemed hollow and meaningless. The love I had for Scarlett had been tainted by my own selfishness, and I was left grappling with the consequences of my choices. Regret consumed me, and I couldn't help but replay the moments that led
Scarlett’s POV I pulled away from Marco, my body still humming with desire, as the knock on the door interrupted our intimate moment. My heart raced, and a mix of annoyance and curiosity flickered in my eyes as I called out, "Who's there?" The muffled voice on the other side responded, "Your Highness, it's a messenger with urgent news. The King requests your presence immediately." A surge of frustration coursed through me. How could this be happening now? Just when Marco and I had found solace in each other's embrace, the outside world intruded upon our private sanctuary. But duty called, and I couldn't ignore the King's summons. Reluctantly, I disentangled myself from Marco's embrace, a sense of longing lingering in the air between us. With a quick, apologetic glance, I hastily adjusted my appearance, ensuring that no trace of our passionate encounter remained visible. "Please inform the King that I will be there shortly," I called out to the messenger, my voice laced with a hint
Marco's POV Macro emerged from the grand palace gates, feeling the gentle touch of a cool breeze on his face. It provided a fleeting moment of relief amidst the turmoil that consumed him. His mind was heavy with thoughts about the perplexing exchange between Scarlett and his father, the King. Questions swirled in his head, leaving him bewildered. Why had his father summoned Scarlett instead of him? What could be the motives behind this unexpected decision? Lost in contemplation, Macro noticed a group of guards stationed near the entrance. Their alert and watchful expressions caught his attention. Curiosity sparked within him, and he approached them, hoping to find some insight or solace in their company. One of the guards recognized Macro and greeted him with a respectful nod. "Good evening, Prince Macro. Is there anything we can assist you with?" the guard asked. Macro looked at the guards, recognizing them as loyal members of the royal retinue. Seeking a momentary escape from his
Marco’s POV I could feel my pulse quicken as I awaited the guard's response, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The safety of my guards and the integrity of the package were of paramount importance. The guard, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination, quickly began to recount the events. "The ambush was swift, Your Highness," the guard explained, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency. "The Crimson Pack attacked with ruthless precision, catching us off guard. Despite our best efforts to defend the package, they managed to overpower us. Some of our guards sustained injuries, but we were able to repel the attackers and secure the area." My mind whirled with a mix of relief and frustration. Though the guards had successfully fought off the ambush, the fact that the package had been compromised was deeply troubling. The importance of its contents couldn't be understated, and the implications of its potential exposure sent a shiver down my spine. "Te
CHAPTER TWELVE Marco’s POV "But there is still one minor issue," a voice said from behind me. Startled, I turned around to find one of my advisors standing there, his expression grave yet determined. I motioned for him to continue, my curiosity piqued by his words. "What is it?" I asked, my voice steady but tinged with concern. The advisor hesitated for a moment before speaking, his gaze fixed on mine. "Your Highness, while it is crucial to recover the stolen weapons, we must also consider the risk of arousing suspicion if all of us were to leave the palace. Your father, the King, is astute and observant. He will surely notice our absence and inquire about our activities." His words hit me like a heavy blow. He was right. We couldn't afford to raise any alarm or draw unnecessary attention to our mission. My friend, Michael, stepped forward, his brows furrowed in deep thought. "Perhaps we could devise a plan that allows us to investigate and retrieve the weapons without leaving t
Marco’s POV I stormed through the corridors of the palace, anger pulsating through my veins like wildfire. How could my father assign Scarlett such a significant responsibility without even informing me? We were supposed to be a team, sharing our lives and supporting each other through thick and thin. The thought of Scarlett keeping such an important matter from me gnawed at me, fueling my frustration with each step I took. Finally, I reached my father's study and barged in without a second thought. He looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his face at my unannounced intrusion. "Father," I spat out, my voice laced with resentment, "how could you give Scarlett this task without consulting me? Aren't I her husband, her partner? Shouldn't I be involved in matters concerning our kingdom?" He sighed heavily and motioned for me to sit down. "Marco, calm yourself," he said in a weary tone. "I understand your frustration, but there are reasons behind my decision." I clenched
Alpha Damian’s POVLost in the torment of my own self-doubt, I followed the guard through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. Each step carried the weight of my troubled thoughts, but the urgent matter at hand demanded my immediate attention. The unresolved issues with Marco lingered in my mind, a constant reminder of the fractured bond between us.As we emerged into the palace courtyard, my steps faltered, and a heavy weight settled upon my chest. The scene that unfolded before me was one of stark contrast to the regal surroundings. Ten figures stood in disarray, their presence an embodiment of suffering and resilience. Their bodies bore the marks of a brutal ordeal, their skin marred with bruises and cuts. Tattered clothing clung to their worn frames, evidence of the treacherous journey they had undertaken.The weariness etched upon their faces mirrored the depth of their torment. Lines of exhaustion etched deeply, and their eyes, once bright with hope, now held a glimmer of b
Chloe’s POVDays turned into nights, and nights turned into restless slumber. Each passing moment carried the weight of my actions, gnawing at my conscience. Fatigue settled upon my shoulders, a constant reminder of the burdens I carried. And then, one morning, as the sun began to rise, a knock on the door shattered the fragile tranquility of my thoughts.Startled, I pushed myself upright, my weariness evident in the heaviness of my movements. The guard's voice floated through the wooden door, muffled yet urgent. "Lady Chloe, the King requests your presence in the throne room."A surge of anxiety coursed through me as I stumbled to my feet. My body, once strong and resilient, now struggled under the weight of exhaustion and a mysterious ailment that had slowly taken hold. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, where a small but unmistakable protrusion had begun to form. The joyous anticipation of motherhood mingled with the overwhelming fatigue, leaving me feeling vulnerable and u