Sterling stepped out of the ballroom and into the courtyard, the night air biting against his skin. For fuck's sake—another lavish party? Lolita's birthday had barely passed. They were blowing fifty million on Intermarium's national day. Recognized as a country, sure. But being recognized doesn't mean being rich.
The glass door slammed behind him. Sterling turned to see Artemis striding down the cobblestone path, black suit sharp against the moonlight.
"I've gotten a pay cut," Sterling said bitterly.
"What? Why?" Artemis tilted his head.
"Because Lolita promoted Axel. He's slacking off and stealing credit for my work."
Artemis frowned. "It took you years to land this job."
"Exactly. Axel came out of nowhere and got hired overnight."
"You think she's sleeping with him?"
Sterling scoffed. "What else explains it? No experience. No credentials. Just charm and proximity."
Artemis hesitated. "I'm more worried about Maxwell."
Sterling nodded. "That's the problem. Axel's allergic to work. Maxwell was best friends with Ethan. There's resentment brewing."
"Maxwell's always on top of his paperwork."
"Which makes him a target. Ethan nearly became ruler. History doesn't just fade. Axel's rise isn't just suspicious—it's strategic."
Artemis turned toward the door. "You've been injured, Sterling—weeks in the hospital, stitched up and sedated. Maybe you're just seeing shadows where there aren't any."
Sterling bit his lip, watching Artemis vanish into the ballroom's glow. Too blind to see the worst in people, he thought. That's how the worst gets in.
**********
Osa lay in the lounge chair beside the pool, basking in the sun. Racheal approached him, finding him stretched out, wearing only gold silk boxers.
"Where's Zoey?" Racheal asked, scanning the courtyard. "I haven't seen her around the palace in days."
Osa didn't even open his eyes. "Zoey's history. She didn't make it."
Racheal froze, her mouth dropped. "What?"
"Complications from the procedure," he sighed, waving a hand as if discussing a minor scheduling conflict. "You were right — should've dealt with her sooner. Shame I didn't pull her out of that camp earlier. But rulers have responsibilities. Laws to impose. Regulations to tighten."
His eyes snapped open, locking onto her heartbroken brown eyes. "What I should have done was wait, let her drop the brat, and then get rid of it. Would've saved us all this trouble."
"Osa! You forced her into having the procedure!"
Osa shot up from the chair. "Don't you dare pin her death on me!" Osa barked. "She let some worthless lowlife knock her up. I was trying to correct the situation before it got worse. That's not a crime—that's responsibility."
"But Lyra is also dead-"
"She brought that on herself! I knew she was a mess when I rescued her from that camp, but I thought she was clean when it came to drugs."
Osa shook his head.
He let out an exasperated breath. "Now I'm back to square one, hunting for a replacement at the camp. "Only this time, I'm only taking prime stock. No baggage, no secret buns in the oven. At least it'll save me the hassle of booking another clinic."
"You don't need another wife; you need to stop."
"Don't tell me what I need. There are women in those camps begging for me to choose them. They pray for the chance to be rescued by me.
"Or you could end the camps and stop throwing people into them just because they speak Aka‑pak instead of Zo‑pak.
"For years us Zo-pak speakers have been denied privileges! Putting them in the camp is the only way they will learn to respect the Zo-pak language!"
"Respect isn't something you beat into people."
"Racheal," he snapped, he grabbed her by the collar of her dress. "Let's not forget where you came from. Before I bought you out from Noah, you were nothing—trading your body for scraps just to clear your immigration debt. I handed you a palace. I gave you designer dresses. And this is how you repay me?"
He slapped her across the face.
"Don't make me put you into one of those camps. I want to keep you safe, and wanting you to stop being selfish and learn to share this palace with another woman."
A tear slid down her cheek. He stepped back.
"You totally wrecked my sun session," he muttered, stepping back like her tears were an eyesore. "I'm grabbing a stiff drink."
He pointed at her floral dress that reached down to her sandals.
"And when I get back, lose the tears and lose that dress. I want you in your panties, ready to give me a proper back rub."
Osa stormed off, leaving Racheal to slide the dress from her body.
Approaching the water, she stared down at her reflection in the pool—unable to recognize the woman looking back. Too broken.