Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 703 | Released on: 22/01/2026

ngers were long, calloused, and cool. He traced the line of her ju

ting the ripeness of a

arched her neck, exposing the vulnerable column of her thr

g in the room's atmosphere. The a

less thud. He grabbed her waist, his hands spanning nearly the entire w

reezing against her bare back where the dress had slipped

ning in. His face was inches from hers,

sharp jawline, the cruel mouth, the scar cutting thr

the words, her mind a slush of d

wer he expected.

a mistake,"

ingers were clumsy, desperate. Sh

ce lacked the command from b

ed, tugging at his shirt

ruled a kingdom, he controlled markets, he dictated lives. But this woman-this unkno

ng them above her head against the glass.

d, a tear slipping from the corne

s the catalyst. Ignatius cr

ungry, tasting of blood from her bitten tongue. Edris met

paused. His hands were everywhere-rough, demanding, grounding. Every touch was a brand,

e room. They didn't make it to the bedroom. They coll

the friction of his body against hers. It was a blur of sensation-teet

n't the disgraced daughter or the rejected fiancée

st. There was only the rhythm of their breathin

r body limp, the drug's hold finally broken by exhaustion. Da

way slightly. The loss o

mumbled, her

t throw from the sofa and tossing it over her. He tucked

es flutter

rp noise cut th

Knock

the hallway. "Sensors indic

rigid. The pre

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.”