The Curvy Rogue

Chapter 5

**LORRY SPRINGSTONE / KELLY THOMPSON’S POINT OF VIEW**

Hearing my ex-husband’s name sends a chill through my veins. Yet, I manage to stand still, pretending it’s the first time I’ve heard that title. Knowing he’s the ruler of these lands, I choose silence, careful not to say anything that might disrespect his authority—a crime of treason, they call it.

Mr. Braxton glares at me with arrogance, recalling our earlier encounter today. The wolf within him growls hostilely, waiting for his human side to step aside so it can teach me an unforgettable lesson.

The tension between us is thick, building steadily as we lock eyes in a silent challenge. I refuse to be intimidated by this messenger who thinks himself superior, assuming I’m just a human in his eyes.

The heavy atmosphere eases only with the arrival of a young clan servant.

“Miss Lorry Springstone, is that correct?” she asks in a gentle voice, filled with kindness and respect.

Her soothing tone warms me, briefly softening my impression of this place.

“Please, follow me,” she adds before turning and heading toward the castle, about two hundred meters away.

I walk behind her, a flicker of excitement stirring as sweet memories flood back. But as we reach the gate, where guards open it to let us pass, darker images resurface.

The guards close the heavy metal gate behind us, and panic grips me. I fear I’ll be arrested for the poisoned pill incident. I bitterly regret not trying to escape when I had countless chances outside. Now, I’m foolishly trapped in this cursed castle.

With growing unease, I follow the young servant into a grand, luxurious room. At its center stands a woman with deep wrinkles on her forehead, standing tall and proud in a loose, yellow cotton dress—the typical attire of a head housekeeper. As the former Luna Queen, I know these castle details well.

As I approach, I recognize her instantly. It’s Omega Tina Dom, the castle’s head housekeeper. Aside from her wrinkles, she hasn’t changed since my banishment six years ago.

Upon seeing me, she bends her knees slightly in a respectful gesture, leaving me puzzled. Instinctively, I think she recognizes me as the former Luna Queen. As far as I recall, Tina and I got along well during my marriage to the Alpha King. Perhaps that’s why she still shows me this respect, despite the events that led to my departure.

Then she speaks.

“Dr. Springstone from Liverpool, here you are at last! What an honor to meet you in person for the first time. Welcome to our castle!” she says with the grace she’s always had since I knew her.

I sigh in relief. To her, I’m someone else. It couldn’t be better.

“Linda, you may leave us now. Thank you for your help,” she instructs the young servant who escorted me.

Linda nods lightly, gives a half-curtsy, and walks away. I’m left alone with Tina—or so I think, not yet having looked around.

“Dr. Springstone, please come with me,” Tina invites, heading toward a bed at the far end of the room.

Curious, I follow, and I’m struck by the stunning beauty of a small boy, about five or six years old, asleep with the lower half of his body covered by a blanket.

“Dr. Springstone, isn’t he adorable?” Tina asks softly, and I nod simply.

“But you see, Doctor, this little boy is the king’s son, next in line for the throne after his father. Yet, he may never reach it, for he’s gravely ill. He suffers from a rare psychological trauma that makes him withdraw. Sadder still, he refuses to eat, and when we gently force him, he vomits everything. We’re deeply worried for his health, and the king even more so. Please, Doctor, do something before it’s too late,” she reveals, wiping away the bright smile I had when I first saw him.

I’m torn, flooded with guilt for not listening to Mr. Braxton when he came to me in Liverpool. This child looks so much like my son, Eden. If it were him, how would I feel if someone capable of helping had refused? These questions torment my mind, and I want to make amends.

At that moment, the boy, sensing our presence in his sleep, opens his small, innocent eyes. Seeing me, he panics and thrashes, letting out a horrifying scream.

“Eddy, no, don’t be afraid! This is the doctor. She’s here to help,” Tina says in a reassuring voice.

Her call catches my attention: she calls him Eddy, so close to my son’s name, Eden. But now isn’t the time to pursue that lead; I set my questions aside for later. A child is in a hysterical crisis before me, and that’s my priority.

I approach Eddy and speak to him in a soothing voice.

“Hello, Eddy, I’m Dr. Lorry Springstone, but you can call me Lorry because we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

Eddy seems surprised by my calm tone, as if he’s not used to being spoken to so gently. Could this be a clue to his isolation? A lead to explore in my diagnosis, I note to myself.

As I prepare to continue my preliminary assessment, the sound of a door opening echoes. With Tina, I turn, and a towering male figure makes a striking entrance. Dressed in royal garments adorned with symbols—a scepter and a gleaming crown on his well-shaped oval head—I recognize him instantly. We shared a not-so-distant love story. This man, or rather this werewolf, is none other than the Alpha King himself, His Majesty Jason Bentley of the Southern clan, my ex-husband.