---- Chapter 10 Branson Ayers POV: | stood there, watching my brother orchestrate his pursuit of Ally with a few casual taps on his phone, and a feeling of complete and utter helplessness washed over me. It was an unfamiliar sensation, and | hated it. My chest felt tight, filled with a chaotic mix of anger and something else, something | refused to name. But | was Branson Ayers. | followed the plan. Always. The day Kennedy' s Rhodes Scholarship was officially announced, | executed the final step. | stood before her, a velvet box in my hand containing a diamond necklace worth more than Ally' s parents would make in a decade. \'Kennedy,\" | said, my voice pitched to the perfect frequency of sincerity. \"Be mine.\" Her eyes filled with tears of joy. \"Oh, Branson! Yes! I've been waiting for this day for so long!\" she cried, throwing her arms around my neck. Our friends erupted in cheers. It was the perfect scene. The prince claiming his princess. | had won. | had achieved the goal | had set for myself years ago. | should have been ecstatic. ---- But as | held her in my arms, all | felt was... empty. A vast, hollow void where the expected triumph should have been. The days that followed were a study in cognitive dissonance. On the surface, everything was perfect. Kennedy was a beautiful, adoring girlfriend. She loved the attention, the public displays of affection, the envy in other girls' eyes. She required constant coddling, endless reassurance, and for me to manage every aspect of her life, from her class schedule to what she wore to dinner. | did it all flawlessly. | played the part of the devoted boyfriend, but my mind was elsewhere. | found myself comparing her to Ally. When Kennedy would whine that | wasn' t paying enough attention to her, my mind would drift to Ally, who would sit with me in silence for hours while | worked, never demanding anything, just being a quiet, comforting presence. When Kennedy would wrinkle her nose at a restaurant |' d chosen, |' d remember Ally, who had been genuinely thrilled the one time |' d taken her for pizza: When Kennedy would shyly, passively accept my advances in the bedroom, my traitorous mind would conjure images supplied by Hanson' s crude descriptions-of Ally' s passionate, uninhibited responses. Images of a woman | had never touched, yet whose phantom presence was starting to consume me. ---- | would shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts, telling myself it was just the novelty wearing off. That this hollowness was temporary. Meanwhile, the reports from my man in London came in like clockwork. Hanson attempted to give Miss Gomez a bouquet of roses. She walked past him without a word. Hanson booked a string quartet to play for her outside her apartment. She closed the blinds. Hanson bought her a new sports car. She had it towed. With every report of Hanson s failure, a dark, shameful tendril of satisfaction would curl in my gut. It was quickly followed by a gnawing anxiety. What was she doing? Who was she talking to? Was she... happy? The thought was a poison dart. | started losing sleep. When | did drift off, my dreams were a chaotic mess of Ally' s face. ' d see her eyes, the way they looked at me during the barbecue-so full of pain and betrayal. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. One night, after a particularly draining charity gala with Kennedy, | came back to my empty apartment. The alcohol had loosened the tight grip | kept on my emotions. Overcome by an impulse | couldn't explain, | took out a burner phone | ---- kept for untraceable business deals and dialed her new international number. It rang. And rang. And rang. Just as | was about to hang up, she answered. \"Hello?\" Her voice. It was cool, crisp, and laced with an unmistakable note of annoyance. It was her, but it wasn't the soft, gentle voice | remembered. This one had an edge of steel. My heart seized in my chest. All the words | had planned to say-the commands, the questions, the demands-they all died in my throat. | was paralyzed, struck dumb by the simple, cold sound of her voice. There was a pause. Then, a soft click. She had hung up on me. Title: A Princess? No! I'm the Female General! In "A Princess? No! I'm the Female General!" by CrushReel, Adela Taylor, a noble family's daughter, disguises herself as her brother to secure their Duke title by joining the army. Despite facing obstacles, she achieves remarkable success. However, upon her triumphant return, her brother betrays her, setting off a chain of events that will test her resolve and reveal hidden truths. This captivating novel delves into themes of secrets, reincarnation, revenge, murder, and drama. Adela's journey from deception to betrayal is filled with intrigue and suspense as she navigates through a world where power dynamics and family loyalties collide. What sets this story apart is its strong female lead who defies expectations and challenges societal norms in a quest for justice and redemption. Experience the riveting tale of Adela Taylor online at CrushReel and witness the transformation of a princess into a formidable female general.