Chapter 7 - The Princess Returns 7
863 Words
That night, Elise and Lily officially moved into the royal villa.
Seraphina didn’t protest. She didn’t scream or cry. She knew her father too well—once King Reginald made up his mind, no amount of tears or tantrums could change it.
She had tried everything in the past. Silent treatment, staged meltdowns, even refusing meals. But none of it worked. His heart remained stone.
Fine. If she couldn’t drive them out directly… then she’d make them want to leave.
On their own.
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With her mind made up, Seraphina sat at her antique writing desk, pulled out a crisp sheet of parchment, and began crafting her masterpiece—one colorful stroke at a time, using glittering rainbow ink pens.
At the top, she wrote in her most elegant script:
“Rules for the Stepmother and Her Spawn”
Things You Are Absolutely Forbidden to Do in This Castle
1. You may not sit at the same dining table as me. Ever.
2. Do not touch anything in the castle without permission.
3. You are not allowed to say my name. You must refer to me only as “Your Highness.”
4. Do not order the castle staff around. They work for me. Not you.
5. Please do your best not to let me see your faces. Preferably, stay out of my sight.
⋯⋯
The list went on.
Seraphina wrote all night, every rule sharper than the last, each one dipped in sugar and poison alike. By morning, the list was complete, and she laid it out with pride at the breakfast table like a declaration of war.
When Elise unfolded it, her composed expression faltered.
Seraphina watched, fascinated, as the older woman’s face paled. Her fingers clenched the edge of the paper so tightly that her knuckles turned white—and the paper tore beneath her grip, leaving a jagged hole near the corner.
Ah, there it is.
The mask slipping.
So much for “graceful and gentle.” That twitch in her brow, the tightness in her jaw—delicious.
Aha. Wicked Stepmother, exposed.
Seraphina felt almost giddy with satisfaction.
Just then, heavy footsteps approached.
“Seraphina, what nonsense is this now?” King Reginald stormed into the room and snatched the paper from Elise’s hand. His eyes scanned the page—and his face darkened instantly.
“Where did this come from?” he barked, voice thundering.
Seraphina blinked innocently, then stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.
“Can’t you tell, Father? You’ve spent so much time with your new wife, you don’t even recognize my handwriting anymore?”
“You—” Reginald’s breath caught in his throat. He did recognize it. There was no denying those looping letters, the pastel flourishes.
But that list…
He could hardly believe those cutting words came from a nine-year-old girl.
His own daughter.
Seraphina lifted her chin high, her tone cold and commanding.
“If they’re going to live here,” she declared, “they’ll follow every single rule I’ve written—exactly as I’ve written it. No exceptions. Otherwise…”
She paused deliberately, her eyes darkening just slightly, like storm clouds beginning to gather. A shadow flickered across her gaze.
“Otherwise what?” King Reginald growled, pressing two fingers to his throbbing temple, his voice rising. “Are you threatening rebellion now?”
“Father,” Seraphina replied smoothly, almost lazily, “I’ve already compromised by letting them move in. If they can’t even meet these basic terms…”
Her eyes flicked to him with a cold, aristocratic grace, as if issuing a royal decree.
“Then I’ll simply move out. I won’t interfere with your lovely little family of three.”
Reginald’s face turned an ugly shade of red, his chest rising and falling in frustration. He knew Seraphina too well—she was just like him. Stubborn. Unyielding. When she made a decision, no one could sway her.
And he knew she wasn’t bluffing.
She would leave. She’d pack her things and disappear from the palace in the dead of night if it meant making a point.
She was his only blood daughter. No matter what, she couldn’t leave. Not now. Not ever.
Grinding his teeth, Reginald turned stiffly to Elise and forced the words out through gritted teeth.
“From now on… we’ll do things according to Seraphina’s list.”
Elise’s face drained of color in an instant.
She stared down at the crumpled paper in her hand, the ink smudged from how tightly she’d been gripping it. Every rule, every word—each one felt like a dagger to her pride.
She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, forcing her expression to remain composed, dignified. She wouldn’t let them see her c***k.
Her lips parted slightly. “Understood,” she whispered, barely audible.
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase. Lily came bounding down from the second floor, dressed in a sky-blue princess gown, glittering crystal sandals sparkling with each step. Her rosy cheeks dimpled as she smiled, a picture of childish delight.
“Mommy!” she called sweetly, running toward Elise with open arms.
- Writer
