Yours in Danger, My Prince.

The Monster I hate

CHAPTER 3

Liora led me through the quiet halls, her voice low and precise.

“East wing first. Sweep and polish. Then the dining hall. Avoid the west wing unless necessary. Watch the guards. Memorize every face, you’ll need it. You start with us today.”

She gestured toward the maids scrubbing marble floors. Heads bent low, whispers flicked in my direction.

“Another one,” someone muttered.

“They never last,” another replied.

I clenched my jaw. Let them talk. Let them doubt. It made no difference. I wasn’t here to be liked as I wasn’t here for them.

—

Across the palace, in the west wing, Royce sat behind a polished wooden desk. Folders lay spread before him. Adrian lounged lazily in a chair, his grin never fading.

“Royce, it’s barely sunrise. what could possibly be so urgent you had to drag me out of bed?” Adrian asked, stretching and yawning.

Royce’s glare was sharp. “This is no joke. The Sonic’s board meets with the council at noon. If they secure that contract, they’ll undercut us by half across the western ports.”

Adrian waved a hand grinning. “Relax, Royce. Sure, they might grab some routes, and some cargo might slip through their hands. But come on… we’ve got the connections, the warehouses, the docks, the people. Half their victory won’t even touch us.”

Royce’s jaw tightened, but Adrian leaned back, still smiling. “Honestly, it’s more paper work than danger. Uncle Raymond’s on it. Sonic’s little win won’t even dent our empire.”

Royce slammed the folder shut. “It’s not about one deal. It’s about dominance. Once they sense weakness, others will follow. I won’t let the Crimson name be questioned.”

Adrian’s smirk softened. “I know Royce. I trust uncle Raymond, Sonic empire isn’t and shouldn’t be a threat to us.”

“We need to” Royce said coldly.

Adrian stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Then atleast don’t lose your composure. If they expect you to roar, whisper instead. It unsettles them more.”

Royce exhaled slowly, tension easing from his jaw. “Whatever. We move in an hour,” he said, striding toward the door.

—

DAHLIA

After morning cleaning, we reached the kitchen. The air pulsed with noise and heat. Pots clanged. Knives chopped. Orders flew across the room. I moved quickly, noting everything—who flinched at a shout, which guard lingered too long, which surface gleamed the most. Every observation was a tool that could be useful.

The head maid’s voice cut through. “You. Take this tea to Lady Lina.” Her voice directed to me.

I stood stunned for half a second. Liora’s hand brushed mine, quick and nervous. Her eyes darted toward the tray, then to me.

“Be careful Dah,” she whispered, barely audible. She’s the devil himself”

Her fear wasn’t for herself. It was for me.

I nodded, steadied my breath and collected the tray without hesitation.

The halls stretched ahead like a labyrinth. A guard intercepted me. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

“To Lady Lina” I said

He pointed. “That way.”

I nodded and walked on, steps even and measured.

At the door, I knocked and a smooth voice called, “Come in.”

Lady Lina sat by the mirror while a maid brushed her hair. Silk pooled at her feet, the morning light catching each thread. Her reflection met mine–cool, assessing, measuring.

“Leave it there,” she said without turning.

I set the tray down and turned to leave.

“Not so fast,” she snapped.

I froze, the tray pressed to my chest.

“Come closer,” her smile slow and deliberate. “I want to see you properly.”

I took a few steps closer to her, I was now standing in front of her.

Her gaze moved over me. “This face. I’ve seen them before. You look familiar, yet I can’t place you.”

“What’s your name?” she asked softly, too softly.

“Dahlia, my lady.”

She repeated it, testing the weight. I didn’t flinch.

A knock interrupted us. A guard stepped in. “My Lady, Prince Royce requests your presence.”

Her eyes lingered on me one beat longer. Then she gestured at the tea cup I had placed on the table. “Take this back. Prepare another. This one’s cold.”

I left silently. I could feel her stare still burning across my back.

Turning a corner too fast, I collided with a figure. The tray jolted. Hot tea splashed down my arm. I looked up—and froze.

Broad shoulders. Tall frame. Eyes like steel.

At that moment I forgot the pain going on my arms. My pulse stuttered. Every buried memory surged the courtroom, my father’s chains, the whispers of embezzlement. This was the man whose family destroyed mine.

He didn’t recognize me.

But I recognized him and he would never forget me just as I would never forget him.

Royce Crimson