Henry King’s study reeked of whiskey and fury. The glass in his hand trembled as he stared blankly at the headlines spread across his desk. The photos mocked him—Logan and Skylar crowned in glory, their wedding etched into history as the grandest of the decade. Commentators compared it to a coronation. Strangers online renamed Logan “The True King.”
And Henry? He was the fool.
He slammed his glass against the desk, amber liquid splashing onto the polished wood. His jaw clenched so tight it ached. “How dare he?” he muttered under his breath, the words jagged with rage.
Behind him, Rose placed her hands gently on his shoulders, her voice soft and sweet as though her touch could melt the fire in him. “Henry… please, calm down. Don’t let them get to you. The press is cruel—they’ll move on s
