In the sun-scorched kingdom of Zahara, King Aryan ruled with an iron fist. His heart still ached from the loss of his beloved Queen Aurora, who succumbed to illness just weeks ago.
“Aryan,” she whispered, voice barely louder than the machines moments before she died. "There is something I must tell you before I go.”
Aryan leaned in closer, stroking her knuckles. “Save your strength, my love. Rest. We’ll speak when you’re stronger.”
“No.” Her fingers tightened weakly around his. “I won’t be stronger. Listen to me.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Jasmine, our youngest, she is not yours.”
The words struck like a dagger. Aryan froze, his breath catching. “What are you saying?”
Aurora’s eyes filled with regret. “Years ago, during the summit in Dubai, there was a man. It was just one nigh
