Rejected by Royalty, claimed by love

Derek’s First Lie

The Night the World Chose a Side

Amaya’s POV

By dawn, strangers had already decided what kind of girl I was.

I knew because their words filled Ethan’s phone before the sun even touched the café windows.

Fraud. Thief. Social climber. Poor waitress chasing a crown. Some comments were worse, sharp

little knives typed by people who had never seen my face except in a stolen photograph taken

through rain-streaked glass.

I sat at Ethan’s kitchen table in his coat, my broken necklace spread beside a mug of tea I had not

touched. The pendant looked too small to have caused so much damage. A crescent moon, a star,

and twenty-two years of secrets I had never asked to carry.

Downstairs, the café stayed closed. Mrs. Bell had taped a handwritten sign to the front door:

FAMILY EMERGENCY. NO COFFEE. NO COMMENT. GO AWAY.

Ethan had read it twice and said nothing, which meant he approved.

Now he stood near the window, one shoulder against the wall, scrolling through headlines with the

kind of stillness that made me more nervous than anger would have.

“Don’t look,” he said.

I gave a humorless laugh. “That always means it’s bad.”

His thumb stopped moving.

“Ethan.”

He looked at me then. His eyes were tired. He had not slept. Neither had I, not really. Every time I

closed my eyes, I heard the queen’s voice through Helena’s phone. My little moon. As if I had

belonged to someone once. As if belonging could survive twenty-two years of being unwanted.

Ethan crossed the room and placed the phone face down on the table. “Derek did the interview

early.”

My stomach turned over. “What did he say?”

“Nothing worth repeating.”

“That means everything worth repeating.”

A muscle moved in his jaw. “He said you stole from him. He said the pendant belonged to his

family. He said you always talked about wanting a richer life.”

For a second, I could not breathe.

Derek had never owned my necklace. He had never owned me, no matter how many times he tried

to make the world believe otherwise. But lies spoken on camera wore nicer clothes than truth

whispered in a kitchen.

“People will believe him,” I said.

“Some will.”

The honesty hurt, but I preferred it to comfort with no bones.

“And the others?”

Ethan leaned forward, hands braced on the table, close enough that I could smell coffee and rain on

his shirt. “The others need to hear you.”

I looked at his hands. Strong hands. Careful hands. Hands that had twisted Derek’s wrist just

enough to make him let go, then stopped before becoming another kind of violence. That restraint

made my chest ache in a way I did not understand.

“I don’t know how to speak to the world,” I whispered.

“Then don’t. Speak to one person first.”

“Who?”

He hesitated. “The queen.”

The room became smaller.

“No.”

“Amaya—”

“No.” I stood too fast, chair scraping against the floor. “Everyone keeps pushing me toward her.

Helena. The headlines. Derek, even, with his lies. I don’t know that woman. She doesn’t know me.”

Ethan straightened, but did not come closer. “You’re right.”

That stopped me.

“You’re allowed to say no,” he continued. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to not

become someone’s miracle before breakfast.”

My throat burned.

No one had ever made anger sound like something I was allowed to keep.

A knock came from the stairwell door.

I flinched. Ethan saw it and moved first, then paused halfway across the room. “It’s Helena.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Sophia would have picked the lock and insulted the hinges.”

Despite everything, a breath of laughter escaped me.

Ethan opened the door. Helena Ward stood on the stairs with Sophia behind her, both damp from

the rain. Helena looked less polished than the night before. Her hair was pinned, but not perfectly.

Her cream coat had rain at the hem. In her hands was a small black box.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Helena said.

Sophia stepped around her. “She means she is sorry the country has become deranged before

breakfast.”

Helena gave her a tired look. “Not inaccurate.”

I glanced at the box. “What is that?”

Helena held it out carefully. “A replacement chain. Temporary. The pendant should not remain

loose.”

I stared at it, hating that the gesture touched me.

“Did the queen send it?”

Helena’s eyes softened. “No. I bought it from Mrs. Bell’s cousin two streets over. The queen

wanted to send the royal jeweler. I advised against terrifying you with velvet.”

Sophia murmured, “A rare intelligent palace decision.”

I took the box but did not open it.

Helena looked at Ethan, then back at me. “Derek’s interview is gaining attention. The palace can

issue a denial, but if we deny too strongly before the evidence is clear, it may look like we are

hiding something.”

“You are hiding something,” I said.

The words came out before I could soften them.

Helena went still.

“All of you,” I added. “You know pieces of my life I don’t. You knew the pendant. Ethan’s father

knew the pendant. The queen knew the pendant. Derek lies about the pendant. And I’m the only one

being called a fraud for not knowing enough.”

Silence followed.

Then Ethan said, quietly, “She’s right.”

Helena lowered her gaze. “Yes.”

That single word settled more heavily than an apology.

Sophia crossed her arms. “Then we stop reacting like hunted animals and set the terms. Amaya

gives one statement. Short. Controlled. No palace lace. No tears unless she chooses them.”

“I can’t face cameras,” I said.

“No cameras,” Ethan replied. “Audio only. Or written. Or nothing.”

Helena looked uncertain. “A written statement may not be enough against Derek’s performance.”

“It will be if it sounds like her,” Ethan said.

The way he said her made something inside me go very still.

Not the possible princess. Not the waitress from the headline. Not Derek’s poor little stray.

Her.

Me.

I opened the black box. The chain inside was simple silver, not royal, not expensive enough to

frighten me. My hands shook as I threaded the pendant onto it. The clasp was too small. I tried

twice and failed.

Ethan looked away. “Do you want help?”

A simple question. A dangerous one.

I nodded.

He came around the table slowly. I turned my back to him and lifted my hair away from my neck.

The apartment went quiet in a different way. Not threatening. Not safe, exactly. Something warmer

and more terrifying than either.

His fingers brushed the chain, not my skin. Still, my breath caught.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said.

I closed my eyes. “I know.”

The clasp clicked.

For one fragile second, neither of us moved.

Then Sophia cleared her throat loudly. “Excellent. Jewelry restored. Emotional tension noted. Back

to crisis.”

I stepped away too quickly, cheeks warm. Ethan returned to the window as if nothing had happened,

but the tips of his ears had gone red.

Helena pretended not to notice. Poorly.

My phone buzzed again.

This time the message came from an unknown number.

RUN BACK TO THE MAN WHO FED YOU, LITTLE STRAY. THE PALACE WILL

NEVER WANT DEREK'S LEFTOVERS.

I stared at the words until they blurred.

Ethan was beside me before I realized he had moved. “Amaya.”

I lifted my head.

Something inside me shifted. Not healed. Not brave. Just tired of letting Derek write my name in

other people’s mouths.

“I’ll give a statement,” I said.

Helena exhaled. Sophia smiled like she had been waiting for a war to begin.

Ethan watched me with something gentler than pride and more dangerous than pity.

“What do you want to say?” he asked.

I touched the pendant at my throat.

“That I don’t know if I’m royal,” I said. “But I know I’m not his.”

Downstairs, someone shouted from the street.

Another voice answered.

Then the entire café window lit with the white burst of camera flashes.

Sophia looked through the blinds and cursed softly. “Too late for no cameras.”

Outside, reporters filled the sidewalk.

And Derek stood at the front of them, smiling up at the apartment window.