The museum was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that pressed against Charlotte's ears and made her own footsteps sound too loud. She had only meant to stop by for a quick look. A friend had told her about the new exhibition, there will be rare artifacts from forgotten kingdoms and curiosity had pulled her in like a moth to a flame.
Charlotte moved slowly through the dimly lit hall, her eyes darting over glass cases filled with crowns, broken swords, and faded parchments. Everything smelled faintly of dust and old wood. The air carried the weight of time itself.
But then she saw something that caught her attention.
Tucked away on a lonely pedestal, half-hidden behind a velvet rope, was a book. Not just any book, its cover was made of gold, the kind of gold that seemed to glow on its own. Strange markings curved across the surface, shifting like they were alive.
Her heart skipped.
This looks like something out of a fairytale…
The sign nearby read simply: The Golden Book. Do Not Touch.
Charlotte chuckled under her breath. "Well, that's tempting."
She leaned closer, staring at the intricate engravings. Without thinking, her fingers stretched forward. The moment her skin brushed against the cold surface of the book, the room tilted.
Light exploded around her, flooding her vision. Her stomach lurched like she was falling from the highest rollercoaster. She tried to scream, but no sound came.
And then silence.
When Charlotte opened her eyes, she was no longer in the museum.
She was standing in the middle of a grand chamber lit by dozens of candles. The air smelled faintly of roses and burning incense. Her hands shook as she reached down and touched the fabric she was wearing... it was silk. Heavy, expensive, embroidered with golden threads. She was no longer in jeans and a T-shirt.
"Oh my God" she half-screamed.
Her gaze swept the room, and then she froze.
On the wall, above an ornate fireplace, hung a massive portrait.
Her.
Charlotte staggered back. "What in the world…"
The girl in the portrait looked exactly like her, only dressed in royal finery, her expression calm and regal. Charlotte's throat tightened. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
"Where am I?" she screamed, her voice breaking.
The door creaked open.
A woman in elegant robes rushed inside, followed by several maids. Their faces were full of worry, their eyes fixed on her as though she belonged here.
"My darling!" the woman gasped, clutching her chest. "You scared us. What happened?"
Charlotte blinked. "I… I think you're mistaking me for someone else...."
"Don't speak like that," the woman cut her off gently, though her voice trembled. "You know what day it is. Today is your wedding."
"My what?!" Charlotte nearly choked on the words.
The maids bowed low, muttering, "Congratulations, my lady," as if it were the happiest news in the world.
But Charlotte's blood ran cold. Wedding? Whose wedding?
The woman stepped closer, her tone dropping lower, almost too careful.
"I know you don't want this marriage," she muttered, eyes flicking nervously to the maids. "But you must bear with it. If you anger Prince Salvador, he will destroy us all."
Charlotte's heart thudded so hard it hurt.
Prince Salvador? Who even was that? Why did they think she was supposed to marry him?
And the biggest question burning in her mind,
Where was the real daughter they thought she was?