BURNING CROWN | A Dark Royal Romance

BURNING CROWN 03-Dark Shadows

The evening sun cast long shadows across the wide lawn. The Fenhardt manor glowed warmly as lights were switched on one by one. She passed through the marble hall on silent feet, her eyes still dimmed by the pressure of the workplace — though her face tried to maintain its composure.

A deep, warm laugh came from the drawing room. As she walked closer, she saw the tall figure of Alexander Fenhardt seated in a dark velvet armchair. His aged but sharp eyes still radiated vitality. Beside him was another man who had just returned from the company... Elliot.

The young man in the same dark shirt — who had been a demon in the office just hours ago — now sat with his legs crossed in a relaxed pose. The smirking half-smile that had once pressured her had transformed into a gentle warmth so convincing it was almost impossible to believe he was the same person.

"You must be tired today," Elliot said, turning toward her, his voice even—yet laced with a warmth that made her chest tighten. "Thank you. My secretary never disappoints."

Alexander chuckled with satisfaction. "Very good... this young lady was well worth choosing from the start."

Nicha bowed her head in acknowledgment, her lips forming a faint smile — even though her heart was filled with pain and bitterness. Because she knew perfectly well that just hours ago, he had crushed her with mocking words until she nearly collapsed. Yet now he pretended to praise her as if she were his most trusted assistant.

Elliot raised his wine glass for a sip, his sharp eyes flickering toward her for just a fraction of a second — as if savoring a game played in the shadows. That smirking half-smile appeared once more... a smile whose true meaning only she understood.

She breathed softly, maintaining her composed demeanor. The hand hidden at her side clenched tight. The stinging truth lingered in her chest, drowned out only by Alexander's warm laughter — a man who still believed in the illusion.

Night after night... this was the life she had to endure. Trapped between "gratitude" she could not refuse and "pain" that no one ever saw.

The sound of Lord Fenhardt's footsteps gradually faded up the grand staircase, leaving only stillness in the wide drawing room. Nicha stood beside the drinks table, looking up at the crystal chandelier that sparkled brilliantly — yet feeling it was too cold to offer any warmth.

Elliot approached slowly, his tall shadow falling over her. "Not a bad performance," the deep voice rose with a smirking half-smile. "I almost believed it myself — that you're the perfect secretary my grandfather imagines you to be."

Nicha pressed her lips together tightly. The hand resting on the table gripped the water glass until it trembled. She tried to steady her voice. "You don't have to speak to me with such contempt... I'm simply doing my job."

He laughed softly, his sharp eyes reflecting a mocking gleam. "Your job, is it? You have no idea, do you? Ever since you came here, my grandfather has never looked at me the same way."

Those words made her catch her breath. She turned to look at him directly and saw clearly the hard, fierce glint in his eyes.

"Every time you do well, he only sings your praises," He stepped closer until his breath brushed against the skin of her cheek. "As if some orphan from nowhere is worth more than his own flesh-and-blood grandson."

She gritted her teeth. Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. "I never meant to take anyone's love... I just—"

"You don't need to make excuses," he cut her off immediately, his sharp, deep eyes radiating an icy chill. "Remember this. I never wanted a secretary that my grandfather chose for me. And as long as you're here... I will make sure you know — not a single day — that this is not your place."

His words cut deep, like a blade through her chest. She stood motionless. Her voice trembled, but she clenched her fists, forcing herself not to cry in front of him.

Elliot turned and walked away, the smirking half-smile still lingering on his face — as though he were enjoying pushing her deeper into the darkness he had created.

The night at the manor fell silent. The corridor lights glowed dimly. She walked out of the small office to file some documents, but after only a few steps, the sound of a conversation drifting from the large study made her stop in her tracks.

The deep voice she knew so well rang out clearly... Elliot.

"I've told you, haven't I? I never wanted a secretary my grandfather chose."

Nicha's heart jolted. She froze, hiding behind the wall, straining to listen without being able to move.

Another voice responded carefully — likely Nathan, the personal aide who had been with Elliot since their school days. "But you know that Lord Alexander trusts her greatly. And she truly does good work."

"Good?" Elliot laughed in his throat, the scorn unmistakable. "That's exactly the problem. Every time she does well, my grandfather only praises her... as if an orphan that nobody wanted is worth more than his own grandson."

She went rigid. A chill ran down her spine.

"I think Lord Alexander doesn't mean it that way..." Nathan tried to console him. "He simply sees her potential..."

"Enough." The voice cut in harshly. "Whether she deserves it or not, there should be only one person in my grandfather's eyes. Not some stranger picked up off the street."

The sound of a glass slamming against the table rang out sharply before everything fell silent once more.

She bit her lip hard. Hot tears welled up without her knowing. Those words were like a heavy stone crushing down on her chest. She had never wanted to take anything from anyone. Yet somehow, her very existence had become the reason Elliot despised her.

She quietly retreated from the corridor, her hand gripping the document folder as tightly as if it were the only anchor she could find in the darkness.

That very night, she learned the truth.

Elliot's hatred was not born from any mistake she had made. It was born from the fact that she had become a "shadow of comparison" — one he could not bear to look upon.

...

The next morning was a day off. The air was cooler and fresher than usual. She stepped out of her small room in the east wing of the manor to take a walk in the garden. But then the sound of several engines roared in unison from the front entrance.

Black luxury cars lined up, gliding through the tall iron gates into the manor grounds. Guards and servants moved quickly, a sense of urgency in the air. She stopped to watch, curiosity stirring as her heart pounded for reasons she couldn't explain.

When she stepped into the grand hall, the quiet murmur of conversation drifted faintly from the reception room. The large door was not fully closed. She caught a glimpse... The powerful elderly man sat at the center — Alexander Fenhardt. At his side was Elliot, his cold-faced grandson. And across from them sat... a distinguished gentleman in an impeccably tailored suit, with sharp features and a dignified bearing that marked him as no ordinary man.

She simply stood still in the corner of the hall; her eyes fixed silently on the closed door. Her heart was full of questions... What were they discussing? Why had this guest arrived with such gravity? But no one answered. And no one invited her to step inside.

Time dragged on. At last, the guest rose, offering Alexander a solemn handshake. Elliot stood as well, his expression graver than she had ever seen.

But she never received an answer as to... what they had spoken about that day.