The Offer to Be Queen

Chapter 2 Who Are You?

Three years later, in Kaeloria...

Outside the Squirrel Opera House in the capital, a stunning woman stepped out of a Pagani, dressed in an off-shoulder, velvet bodycon dress that hugged her curves. Her dazzling orange-red curls cascaded over her shoulders, and her smile was utterly captivating, drawing screams and flowers from her fans.

This was Joanna Davis, Marindale's rising star, who had miraculously survived a near-death experience at sea—she was none other than Irene.

Under the camera flashes, Irene's smile was pure and innocent, but as she turned, her gaze became cool and wise.

Recently, she'd heard a rumor that this charity gala might hold the key to the truth about the assassination she'd been investigating for years.

Despite her efforts all these years, the real traitor had remained in the shadows, elusive as ever.

But tonight, she was determined to uncover the whole truth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Marindale's newest sensation, Ms. Joanna Davis. She donates all her earnings to orphans. Let's give her a round of applause out of deep respect... And now, she's going to perform her latest hit..."

As the applause thundered, Joanna's beautiful voice filled the room.

Her voice wasn't the typical sweet and crystal-clear sound of a woman; it carried a raw, passionate edge, seasoned with experience.

The audience was mesmerized, completely lost in her performance.

Suddenly, the music stopped and the lights shifted, stirring the crowd into whispers.

"Could it be him?" Someone guessed. "Are we about to see the king himself?"

Rumors flew that Kaeloria's king might attend the gala, which attracted many big shots for a royal glimpse.

Someone nearby chimed in, "Three years ago, the old king was assassinated, supposedly by a hitman hired by his own brother."

"But our current king didn't just stop at the assassin. He locked up the old king's brother and his whole cabal for life. That's ruthless. If you're trying to catch his eye, you'd better watch your back first."

Dozens of armored stretch Lincolns rolled up to the opera house, and hundreds of well-trained soldiers and bodyguards spilled out, congregating around one particular vehicle. Rifles at the ready, they formed a formidable perimeter. Up high, 50 snipers lay in wait, their eyes glued to every possible threat to safeguard the king's safety.

Lewis, decked out in a top-tier, custom-tailored suit that shimmered subtly and wore a tie that screamed luxury. His chiseled, rugged features and inscrutable, icy eyes gave him an air of noble mystery.

The big shots who had been eager to chat with Lewis moments ago now hung back, intimidated by the sheer force of his presence.

Lewis' gaze landed on Joanna on stage. Her face was stunning yet unfamiliar, but her voice and posture eerily reminded Lewis of Irene.

He paused and fixated on the girl, his voice cool as he asked, "Who are you?"

Whispers fluttered through the crowd below. "Who is this girl that's caught His Majesty's eye?"

"Yeah, doesn't he usually keep girls at arm's length? There was a princess who tried to win his heart and got shut down."

Irene's heart pounded furiously, a dangerous aura enveloping her.

'No, I can't let him recognize me; he'd surely kill me again if he did,' Irene thought.

Gathering her composure, Irene took the initiative to introduce herself. "Your Majesty, I'm Joanna Davis from Marindale. It's a pleasure to meet you."

'Right, I'm Joanna now, no longer Irene.'

Lewis responded with icy politeness, "Ms. Davis, the pleasure is all mine."

Journalists around snapped photos of this unexpected interaction, their fingers flying over their keyboards: The usually stoic king engaging in conversation with a foreign singer—almost the ninth wonder of the world.

But all Irene wanted was to get away. Knowing his dangerous acuity, she quickly exchanged pleasantries before hastily escaping his gaze.

Getting offstage, Irene retreated to her dressing room, slumped against the wall, and gasped for air, her nerves frazzled and full of regret.

She was a bodyguard and a soldier, and following orders was her life principle. Yet today, she found herself defying a command and lying for the first time, leaving her feeling utterly uncomfortable.

'And now what? Should I stick around here? Digging deeper might risk discovery, but not doing so could mean losing this chance to uncover the truth about the former king's demise. As a soldier, I can face death but cannot bear the burden of disgrace,' Irene thought to herself.

Irene was at a crossroads, unable to decide.

*****

Meanwhile, not far from Irene's dressing room, in the suite for the royal guests, Lewis summoned his personal secretary, Harvey.

"Your Majesty, how may I assist you?" Harvey asked.

Lewis said, "Check out that woman's background, origins, and her current location."

"Right away, Your Majesty," Harvey responded and soon returned with information.

"Ms. Davis is from Marindale, adopted by our Defense Minister, Clare Thompson. She's been a singer there and only recently returned to Kaeloria. She's now in the dressing room."

"Adopted daughter?" Lewis mused, knowing Clare's dossier front to back, aware that this so-called adopted daughter raised several red flags.

"Off you go," Lewis said to Harvey.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Harvey replied.

After a moment's thought, Lewis took the private corridor to Irene's dressing room and knocked on the door.

Seeing Lewis' face through the peephole and taking a deep breath, Irene opened the door.

"Irene, it's been really a long while," Lewis said, his voice sharp with certainty.

Trying to maintain composure, Irene responded, "Irene? You must have me mistaken, Your Majesty."

Lewis merely stood in the doorway, his emotions unreadable. "Is that so?"

A chill ran down Irene's spine as she faced him. "Your Majesty, I'm here for the charity performance... I don't play by those behind-the-scenes dealings."

She then acted offended, ready to slam the door.

However, Lewis held it open.

Lewis' expensive black shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing well-defined muscles.

Clearly, he didn't believe what she said.

Panic surged through Irene, but she could only feign indignation. "This isn't gentlemanly behavior, even if you are the king. Please leave."

"Come in." Lewis insisted firmly, pulling her into the room and closing the door behind them.

"Your Majesty," Irene protested in a firm tone, a genuine note of panic underlined her words. "You can't treat a lady this way."

Lewis looked at Irene's red lips, where he had once left his mark, and asked, "Who are you really?"

Suppressing her instinct to obey his order, Irene rubbed her wrists and said, "Your Majesty, I'm Joanna, Joanna Davis. If you doubt me, you can verify it with my foster father."

"Well, Joanna."

Lewis' gaze was as inscrutable as the night sky. After a pause, he said, "Ms. Davis, I'm formally offering you the position of my personal assistant. Name your price."

Irene replied with a puzzled face, "Your Majesty, as far as I know, foreigners can't be your personal assistants. I'm a Marindale citizen."

Lewis adjusted his tie, his tone authoritative and commanding. "That rule will be gone from the constitution by tomorrow."

Irene continued. "What about my job? I'm a singer in Marindale. I need to go back for concerts."

Lewis looked at Irene, his expression calm. "No matter how much you make, I'll pay you ten times that."

Irene bit her lip, visibly conflicted. "Your Majesty, I—"

Lewis stared at her clear eyes and interjected, "I can have Clare retire tomorrow. Just think about my offer."

'What the hell? Is he threatening me?' Irene thought.

Irene looked at Lewis in disbelief, hardly believing he'd make such a capricious statement.

But the look in his eyes told her he was not kidding.

'Fine, I can't drag my foster father into this,' Irene thought with a deep sigh.