The King's Lost Princess

Chapter 5 – The Proposal

New York had gone quiet by the time Kendrick reached the private level of the Marcellus.

Downstairs, the gala still burned in ruby and champagne, but here on the top executive floor, the noise was nothing more than a distant vibration through marble and steel.

Sam walked a step behind him, phone in hand, eyes always moving.

“Last chance to back out,” Sam murmured. “We could pretend you were bored and fell asleep.”

“I am bored,” Kendrick said, not slowing.

“Then you’ll be lethal,” Sam muttered. “Good to know.”

They reached a single door at the end of the hallway—no label, no guards, just a panel that flickered green as they approached. Someone inside had already granted them access.

Sam stopped.

“I’ll be outside,” he said. “If you’re not out in thirty minutes, I’ll fake a crisis.”

Kendrick’s mouth twitched. “If you fake it badly enough, I’ll create a real one.”

“Motivating as always,” Sam replied dryly.

Kendrick pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The suite swallowed him.

The door whispered shut behind him, sealing the room.

The air here was warmer, denser, softer than the sharp, conditioned cold of the hotel corridors.

Crimson velvet covered the walls, muting every sound.

Gold veins traced intricate patterns across the ceiling, catching the light.

Above, a chandelier hung like a blooming ruby, petals of dark red glass glowing with a soft inner fire.

The center of the room was dominated by a round table made of black glass. It reflected the chandelier and the two men in the room like a dark, rippling mirror.

Only one of them was standing.

Leonardo Wilson faced the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands clasped behind his back, gaze on the city far below.

The skyline was a sprawl of light and motion—towers, streets, rivers of headlamps streaming endlessly into the night.

Without looking back, Leonardo said, “You’re late.”

Kendrick’s expression didn’t shift. His walk was smooth, unhurried, predatory-soft as he moved closer to the table.

“Two minutes,” he said.

“In two minutes,” Leonardo replied, “men have lost everything.”

“Not me,” Kendrick said.

That made Leonardo turn.

Up close, Leonardo looked exactly like what he was—a man who had ruled old money and older power for decades.

His silver hair was combed back neatly. His suit was dark and perfectly cut, his tie immaculate. Lines traced his face, but none of them belonged to weakness. They were carved from decisions, from victories and losses, from years of holding a world together with will alone.

His eyes were sharp. Not tired. Not defeated.

Just… aware.

Kendrick met that gaze calmly.

He was younger, taller, broader in the shoulders, but unlike many men his age in their suits and watches, nothing about him screamed for attention.

He didn’t need attention.

Attention rearranged itself around him.

Midnight-black suit. No tie. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing a line of bronzed skin. A watch worth a private jet on his wrist. No visible weapon, but his presence alone felt like one.

Where Leonardo’s power was like a deep-rooted oak, Kendrick’s was more like a storm—self-contained, precise, but you knew if it ever broke loose, it would flatten everything.

“Mr. Peterson,” Leonardo said.

“Mr. Wilson,” Kendrick replied.

They did not shake hands.

Leonardo gestured toward the table. “Sit.”

Kendrick did, the smoothest of movements, legs spread just enough, hands resting lightly on the armrests. Relaxed, but there was nothing soft in him.

Leonardo took the seat opposite.

The ruby chandelier cast red shadows across their faces, painting both men in the same dangerous light.

“You requested this meeting,” Leonardo began.

“You granted it,” Kendrick said. “You could have refused.”

Leonardo smirked faintly. “And miss the chance to look into the eyes of the man every market analyst keeps warning me about?”

“I don’t threaten markets,” Kendrick said. “I correct them.”

Leonardo’s smile widened a fraction. “Some would say you erase them.”

“If they deserve it,” Kendrick replied.

Silence settled for a brief moment, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Leonardo broke it. “You want Europe.”

“I am expanding into Europe,” Kendrick corrected. “Your choice is whether you stand aside or stand in the way.”

“Confident,” Leonardo said.

“Accurate,” Kendrick said back.

Leonardo leaned back in his chair, observing him. “You’re charming.”

“I don’t intend to be.”

“That’s the worrying part.”

Kendrick’s eyes held his without effort.

“You didn’t call me here to trade compliments,” he said. “You know what I want. Let’s speak plainly.”

“Plainly then,” Leonardo said. “You want access. I have access. You want legitimacy among the old families. I can give you that. You want to step into places that will not open for you without a name like mine next to yours. I can arrange it.”

“Then what’s your price?” Kendrick asked. “And don’t waste my time with donations and board seats. You’re not a man who thinks that small.”

“No,” Leonardo said. “I’m not.”

He folded his hands on the table.

“I have one condition.”

The room seemed to still around the words.

Kendrick waited, eyes never leaving his.

“Go on,” he said.

Leonardo did not flinch.

“You will marry my granddaughter.”

There were a thousand ways most men would react to that sentence.

Shock.

Laughter.

Confusion.

Anger.

Embarrassment.

Kendrick didn’t show any of those.

He didn’t move.

His pulse didn’t jump.

His shoulders didn’t tighten.

Only his gaze sharpened—fractionally, but enough to make the room feel colder.

He spoke slowly.

“…Your what?”

“My granddaughter,” Leonardo repeated.

Kendrick studied him, his face unreadable, eyes dark and calm and absolutely dangerous.

“As far as I’m aware,” Kendrick said, voice even, “you don’t have any living family.”

A beat.

“Every public record says your bloodline ended decades ago.”

“That was deliberate,” Leonardo said.

Kendrick tilted his head the slightest fraction.

“You hid an heir,” he said. Not a question. A conclusion.

“Yes.”

“So well,” Kendrick continued, “that even I never caught a rumor.”

Leonardo almost smiled.

“That was also deliberate.”

Kendrick’s fingers tapped once against the armrest. It was nothing, just a faint sound. But in this room, in this silence, it felt like a warning shot.

“And you’ve chosen,” Kendrick said softly, “to reveal that secret… to me.”

“Yes.”

“Tonight.”

“Yes.”

Kendrick’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

“You should not have done that.”

Leonardo’s gaze hardened. “I don’t make decisions lightly.”

“You just did,” Kendrick said.

“Peterson—”

“You have a hidden heir,” Kendrick cut in, voice like quiet steel.

“You’ve made the world believe you’re without family. No leverage. No weak points. No blood to threaten. That myth is part of your protection.”

“Yes.”

“And now,” Kendrick said, “you’ve shattered it. Voluntarily. For a man you’ve never met in person until tonight.”

Leonardo’s expression didn’t c***k, but something tightened in his jaw.

“I’ve known of you for years,” he said. “Our circles don’t overlap on paper. But I see the ripples you leave behind.”

“You watch the markets,” Kendrick said. “Everyone does.”

“I watch wars,” Leonardo corrected. “You start them with contracts.”

Kendrick’s lips moved into what might have been the ghost of a smile.

“And now you want me to start one by wearing a ring.”

Leonardo didn’t bother denying it.

“I want you to marry her,” he said. “Yes.”

“To bind me to your legacy,” Kendrick said.

“To make me your weapon. To make anyone who wants to touch your heir think twice because she belongs to me.”

“She won’t belong to you,” Leonardo said sharply.

“She will be your wife, not your possession.”

“Semantics.”

“No,” Leonardo said. “Difference.”

Kendrick’s stare chilled.

“What exactly do you expect from this arrangement?” he asked.

“Spare me the romantic nonsense. I don’t believe in it.”

“I expect you,” Leonardo said, voice quiet but unwavering, “to make sure she does not die.”

Kendrick’s gaze did not soften.

“You have an entire network,” he said. “Old alliances. Old families. Private armies. You chose to hide her instead of putting her behind your walls. That was your plan.”

“It worked for over two decades,” Leonardo said.

“And now?” Kendrick asked.

“Now,” Leonardo exhaled, “the people looking for her are getting too close.”

Kendrick leaned back, studying him.

“What do they want?”

“Power. Leverage. Control,” Leonardo said. “Some are satisfied with destroying what they can’t own. Some want a puppet. Others simply want my line erased permanently.”

“And your solution,” Kendrick said, careful and slow, “is to tie her to me.”

“Yes.”

Kendrick shook his head once, almost in disbelief—but not at the danger.

At the audacity.

“You want to stack your problem on top of my empire,” he said. “And call it protection.”

Leonardo’s eyes flashed. “It’s more than that. With you by her side, anyone who touches her risks interfering with you. And the one thing every player in our world agrees on is that crossing you is suicidal.”

Kendrick’s voice lowered.

“You could have picked anyone. A royal from some irrelevant house. A son of another old family. A politician, a banker, one of your puppets. Why me?”

Leonardo answered without hesitation.

“Because you cannot be bought.

Because you cannot be blackmailed.

Because you cannot be quietly removed.”

He held Kendrick’s gaze.

“And because if anyone tries to hurt what is yours… they will regret surviving it.”

Kendrick watched him in silence.

There was no pride in Leonardo’s voice. No flattery. No false humility.

Just truth.

“And if she is not mine?” Kendrick asked.

Leonardo’s fingers curled once against the table.

“Then she is an unclaimed prize,” he said. “An unprotected target. A gap in my armor. A name someone can carve into a threat.”

“You just said nobody knows she exists,” Kendrick pointed out.

“For now,” Leonardo said. “Information leaks. Your presence here tonight is proof of that. I see moves shifting. Pressure building. Something is coming. I don’t know from which angle yet, but I feel it pressing in.”

He paused.

“I’d rather move before they do.”

The room hummed with tension. The red light felt heavier, like it too was waiting for Kendrick’s verdict.

He looked at Leonardo with that same predatory stillness that had made entire boards resign rather than face him.

“You’re asking me,” Kendrick said, “to sacrifice my autonomy for a stranger.”

Leonardo bristled. “I’m asking you to share it.”

“I don’t share,” Kendrick said. He said it simply, as if stating a universal law.

“Not control. Not power. Not my name. Certainly not my life.”

“It’s marriage, not imprisonment.”

“Marriage is a contract,” Kendrick replied. “Contracts are iron. You’re asking me to sign one with a person I know nothing about. Not her face. Not her voice. Not her mind. Nothing.”

“You know enough,” Leonardo said. “That she’s my heir. That she’s in danger.”

“She’s theoretical,” Kendrick said. “A hypothetical problem you haven’t managed well and now want to dump into my lap.”

Leonardo’s nostrils flared. “She is a human being.”

“She is a liability,” Kendrick said. “Until proven otherwise.”

That did it.

For the first time, Leonardo’s temper pricked through his composure.

“You speak like you were never vulnerable,” he said. “Like you were born invincible.”

Kendrick’s eyes flashed once—something dark, quick, buried just as fast.

“You think I don’t know what it is to be hunted?” Leonardo continued. “To be young and unprotected and used as a pawn? You think I hid her out of cowardice? I hid her because I know exactly what they would do if they found her.”

His fingers dug into the edge of the table.

“She deserves a life. A future. A chance to laugh without wondering who is watching. I gave that to her. But I can’t hold back the tide forever. And when it breaks, she will not be ready.”

He leaned forward, eyes burning.

“I don’t need you to love her. I don’t even need you to like her. I need you to stand between her and the people who want her dead.”

Kendrick was silent for a moment.

Then he said, quietly:

“That is not how I work.”

For a beat, Leonardo held the advantage.

He had shaken the air.

He had cracked his own armor for a heartbeat, revealing the depth of his desperation.

Not weakness.

Not collapse.

Just the rawness of a man who had something to lose.

Kendrick saw it.

And he saw the risk in getting anywhere near it.

“You’re asking for the one thing I don’t give,” Kendrick said.

“And what is that?” Leonardo asked.

“Tethers.”

Leonardo frowned.

“I cut ties when they become liabilities,” Kendrick said. “I don’t add them deliberately.”

“She wouldn’t be a tether,” Leonardo insisted. “She’d be a shield. An anchor into Europe. An ally.”

Kendrick’s gaze chilled even more.

“I don’t let anyone anchor me.”

Behind the service door, the server’s feet were starting to ache, but he didn’t dare move.

He’d never heard a conversation like this. Not in the kitchens. Not in the corridors. Not in whispered gossip between staff.

He peeked through the sliver of space near the door’s hinge.

He couldn’t see much—just the corner of the table, a reflection in the glass, two blurred silhouettes.

But he could hear enough.

“…my heir…”

“…hidden all her life…”

“…doesn’t know what she carries…”

“…they’ll use her or erase her…”

“…marry her, protect her…”

“…I don’t marry strangers…”

His fingers tightened around the handle of the drinks trolley.

This wasn’t just power.

This was information.

Information people would kill for.

He slowly slid his hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small, unregistered phone, and opened a secure chat.

His thumbs flew.

CONFIRMED: WILSON HAS A SECRET HEIR.

FEMALE. HIDDEN. UNAWARE OF STATUS.

HE WANTS PETERSON TO MARRY HER FOR PROTECTION.

PETERSON REFUSED.

HEIR = VALUABLE + EXPOSED.

He hesitated only a second, then hit send.

Somewhere far away, in a quiet European office, a man who didn’t officially exist would smile at that message.

Inside the suite, the conversation hit its edge.

“Wilson,” Kendrick said, voice low, “let me make something very clear.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t slam his hand on the table.

He simply rose.

Slowly.

Gracefully.

Terrifyingly.

The chair slid back without a sound, and yet the entire room felt like it reacted—like the walls leaned away, like the light dimmed.

Kendrick stood over the table, every inch of him controlled.

“I am not your shield,” he said. “I am not your attack dog. I am not a crown waiting to be placed on someone’s family tree.”

Leonardo rose too, not willing to be spoken down to from below.

They were almost eye-level now.

“You are refusing Europe,” Leonardo said. “You realize that?”

“I’m refusing a chain,” Kendrick replied. “I can take Europe without a Wilson by my side.”

“Not without bloodshed,” Leonardo said.

Kendrick’s eyes were flat. “Bloodshed doesn’t scare me.”

Leonardo’s lips pressed together.

“You underestimate your enemies,” he said.

“And you,” Kendrick replied, “overestimate your leverage.”

The words hung between them like blades.

“You’re making a mistake,” Leonardo said quietly.

“So are you,” Kendrick answered. “You think you can bargain a woman’s future without her knowledge. You think I’m the sort of man who would accept.”

His gaze bored into Leonardo.

“You misjudged me.”

“If you walk out now,” Leonardo said, “you leave her undefended.”

“She was never under my defense,” Kendrick said. “She’s a stranger. A secret you chose to unwrap in front of the wrong audience.”

“Are you that indifferent?” Leonardo asked. “You know men want to use her—”

“And you don’t even trust me enough,” Kendrick cut in, “to tell me who they are.”

He shook his head, a slow, impatient movement.

“You’re not asking me to protect a person,” he said. “You’re asking me to enter a war blind, tethered to someone I don’t know, in exchange for something I could win on my own.”

He stepped back from the table.

“My answer is no.”

“Peterson—”

“You’re the one who’s late this time,” Kendrick said. “Whatever danger is coming for your heir… it’s already on its way. You should be spending your time shoring up your weaknesses. Instead you wasted it pitching marriage to a man who doesn’t marry.”

He turned toward the door.

“What happens to your granddaughter,” Kendrick said, voice like ice,

“is not my concern.”

Then he opened the door.

Walked out.

Did not look back.

Somewhere Else – Milan

Across an ocean and a continent, Milan glowed under a softer kind of light.

Street lamps cast warm halos on cobbled streets. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, exhaust, and the faint sweetness of pastry.

Seina walked in the middle of the sidewalk, balancing on the cracks between stones like it was a game.

Luca walked beside her, tossing a football lightly.

Mia marched ahead, complaining about a professor.

Arjun looked like he was calculating the meaning of life behind his glasses.

Elena trailed behind them, sketchbook in hand.

“I swear,” Mia ranted, waving a hand, “if that man says ‘this is basic biology’ one more time, I will basic-biology his face.”

“You’re going to be a doctor,” Arjun reminded her. “Consider not assaulting your professors.”

“Self-control is overrated,” Mia said.

Seina snorted. “Says the woman who cried because her pasta was overcooked.”

“That was an emotional moment,” Mia protested. “And you promised never to bring it up again.”

“I lied,” Seina grinned.

Luca shook his head. “You two are exhausting.”

“You love us,” Seina said.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered.

Elena glanced up from her sketch. “I drew your professor as a potato earlier. Want to see?”

Mia’s face lit up. “Absolutely yes.”

They stopped under a shop canopy while Elena flipped the sketchbook around.

The drawing was simple but brutal—a round little potato with glasses and a furious expression pointing at a board.

Mia burst out laughing. “This is art. This is how we protest.”

Seina reached into the paper bag in her hand and pulled out a piece of focaccia, taking a huge bite.

Luca stared. “That was mine.”

“You blinked,” Seina said. “It became mine.”

“You’re a thief.”

“I’m efficient,” she replied, mimicking a tone that would have made Kendrick pause for half a second if he’d heard it.

She didn’t know that.

She didn’t know any of it.

Her world was small in the best way—classes, part-time jobs, cheap coffee, group projects, Netflix, late-night walks, bad jokes.

Sometimes, at night, when she stared at the ceiling, she felt a strange tug inside her chest, like something was missing. Like a sentence someone cut in the middle.

But during days like this?

She forgot that feeling existed.

“Guys,” she said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the street.

“What?” Arjun asked.

She looked up at the sky, at nothing in particular.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just… feel like the world is about to do something stupid.”

Mia wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That’s called an exam schedule, babe.”

Seina laughed, tension breaking.

“Right,” she said. “Exam schedule. Obviously.”

They moved on, the five of them disappearing into the golden spill of light and noise.

Unaware that, somewhere far away,

a king had refused to save her,

another king was about to fight for her,

and a ghost had just learned she existed.

Her life was still hers, for now.

For now.