Chapter 14 Aug 18, 2025 Celeste I was arranging the fresh orchids on my desk when Renard burst through my chamber doors. His face was pale, his eyes wild. I could see the rage barely contained beneath his princely composure. "You're pregnant," he said. Not a question. A flat statement that hung in the air between us. I said nothing at first. Just kept touching the delicate petals of the orchids-another silent gift from the man whose child now grew inside me. The irony wasn't lost on me. These flowers, so beautiful and pure, sitting on my desk while I carried the most dangerous secret in the kingdom. "Answer me," Renard demanded, stepping closer. I turned to face him, hands folded calmly in front of me. "Yes." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. The sound was bitter, broken. "We never touched. Not once in over a year. So whose seed is it, Céleste? Shall I guess, or shall I drag you to the council chamber and let the nobles figure it out for themselves?" My heart was pounding, but I kept my voice steady. "You already know." His hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a moment, I thought he might actually strike me. But he didn't. He just stared at me with a mixture of fury and something that looked almost like admiration. "You think you've won something?" he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You think he'll give you power? Protection? He won't even give you his name." "It's not about names," I replied softly. "It's about blood. And this child has more royal blood than either of us ever will." The truth of it hit him like a physical blow. I could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his confident mask slipped for just a moment. He knew I was right. This child-regardless of the scandal of its conception-was still Alexandre's blood. Still royalty. Still more legitimate than either of us in the eyes of God and country. Renard moved closer, close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath. He'd been drinking. Probably for weeks since he'd heard the whispers. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he asked, his voice so low only I could hear it. "Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I've ensured an heir for this kingdom." "You've destroyed us all." "Have I? Or have I saved us?" He stared at me, something shifting in his expression. The wild anger was still there, but now there was calculation too. I could practically see his mind working, weighing his options, considering the possibilities. Then, slowly, his smile turned dangerous. "You're clever," he said. "I'll give you that. But you're not as clever as you think." "What do you mean?" "You're nothing without me," he said, leaning in close enough that his breath stirred my hair. "If I expose you-if I tell the court what you've done-you fall. The King falls. And that child-" His eyes dropped to my still-flat belly. "That child becomes a symbol of disgrace instead of an heir." The threat was clear. But I wasn't the same broken girl who had begged for his attention months ago. I wasn't the same woman who had stood silently while he humiliated me in front of the court. "Then don't," I said coolly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Why shouldn't I?" "Because you'll fall with us." He frowned, not understanding. "Think about it, Renard," I continued, my voice growing stronger. "Right now, you're the future king. You have a pregnant wife who will give you an heir. The court sees stability, continuity. But if you expose this scandal, what happens to you?" I could see him working through it, seeing the trap he'd walked into. "You become the prince who couldn't satisfy his own wife," I said quietly. "The man who lost her to his own father. The weak heir who destroyed his family's reputation out of spite. Do you think the nobles will respect that? Do you think they'll follow you after that kind of humiliation?" His face had gone very still. "But if you claim this child as yours," I continued, "you become the savior. The forgiving husband who stood by his wife despite rumors. The future king who ensured the succession." The silence stretched between us. I could hear my own heartbeat, could feel the weight of everything hanging on this moment. Finally, Renard stepped back. "You're asking me to live a lie," he said. "I'm asking you to choose survival over pride." "And what do I get in return?" "A throne. An heir. A legacy." "And a wife who belongs to another man." I looked at him-really looked at him. Saw the boy who had once smiled at me during our courtship, beneath the bitter man he'd become. "I never belonged to you anyway," I said softly. "We both know that." He was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded, just once. "If we do this," he said, "there are conditions." "Name them." "In public, you're my devoted wife. You play the part perfectly. No more whispered conversations with my father. No more mysterious disappearances. You give them the picture of a perfect royal marriage." "And in private?" "In private, we're strangers. Just like we've always been." I considered this. It wasn't love, but it was survival. For all of us. "Agreed," I said. He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Céleste?" "Yes?" "If that child looks like him…" He didn't finish the threat. "Then we'll deal with it when the time comes."