Tempting the Crowned Heart

Chapter 4 Mistaken Identity

Isabelle mustered her courage and, feigning nonchalance, asked, "Is the Duke of Montbatten on bad terms with the royal family? The old king hasn't mentioned him in years..."

Evelyn's expression darkened immediately.

"He's nothing but an ungrateful wretch, just like his insufferable mother!"

Evelyn drew in a heavy breath, her frustration palpable. She had clawed her way to become Edward's stepmother, using every means at her disposal, believing that through Edward, she could rise to become the queen. But that incompetent fool had become a vegetative husk.

"Focus on your business. Your only task now is to seduce the Crown Prince and conceive a child! Edward is practically dead, so if you fail, I won't hesitate to find someone else who can fulfill the role of a royal consort!"

Isabelle's fingers curled into tight fists as she stiffly nodded.

Watching Evelyn stride out, Isabelle bit her lip and returned to her room.

Edward lay motionless on the bed, his face ghostly pale, tubes running into his body to sustain his fragile existence.

He had been comatose for three years, ever since Isabelle was forced into the royal family. From the start, he had been in this frail, unresponsive state.

Their marriage had been a sham from the beginning, arranged only to bring good fortune to the family. No one truly treated her as royalty. Isabelle herself had married into the family with a singular purpose—to use the royal family's influence to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

And now, Evelyn's latest absurd demand: to throw her into the Crown Prince's bed.

Isabelle didn't care what sacrifices she had to make, but how could she possibly convince the Crown Prince to accept her?

Her phone buzzed suddenly, breaking her train of thought. She glanced down to see a message from Evelyn, containing the address of a royal event.

Evelyn: The Crown Prince will be meeting the Marquis of Brunei tonight at this location. I'll ensure you have an excuse to attend. Make good use of this opportunity.

Isabelle frowned slightly, typing a simple "Understood" in reply. She tossed the phone aside and stepped into the bathroom.

*****

That evening, Isabelle clutched the small vial Evelyn had given her, her fingers trembling slightly. Accompanied by an attendant, she arrived at the grand venue for the royal gathering.

As her car came to a stop, Isabelle stepped out and caught sight of a luxurious carriage slowly pulling up.

The attendant's expression turned peculiar upon seeing her, though he quickly masked it and respectfully opened the carriage door.

William stepped out. His sharp eyes briefly darkened as they landed on Isabelle, but his demeanor quickly returned to its usual calm and collected state, as though he didn't recognize her at all.

"William, what a coincidence," Isabelle said, forcing a smile as she walked toward him. "I heard the Crown Prince will be discussing important matters tonight. How about letting me tag along? I'd love to learn more about royal affairs."

William offered no immediate response, so Isabelle pressed on. "The old king has suggested I start gaining experience in royal matters. It would help me contribute to the family and support Edward's legacy."

A polite smile tugged at William's lips, his refined manner masking any trace of disdain. "I'm afraid that might not be appropriate. You're the Second Prince's consort—attending an event like this might cause unnecessary complications."

Isabelle quickly tried to salvage her request. "I can handle it, I promise. As long as you're willing to take me, I won't cause any trouble."

William toyed with his cufflink, his eyes cold despite the civility of his expression. Winsor could see right through him—he was outwardly composed but harbored a ruthlessness that could send shivers down anyone's spine.

She fully expected him to reject her outright. Perhaps that would finally make Evelyn abandon this ridiculous scheme.

Lost in thought, Isabelle didn't notice the uneven ground beneath her heel. Her ankle twisted, and she stumbled forward, colliding directly into William's chest.

William caught her with gentlemanly precision, steadying her before releasing her as though nothing had happened. His actions were flawless, his demeanor entirely proper.

"Very well," he said, his tone light. "Come with me, then."

Isabelle blinked in surprise, her head snapping up to meet his eyes. He was smiling faintly, his expression unreadable.

"What are you waiting for?" he said with a touch of mockery. "Don't keep the guests waiting."

His gaze locked onto hers, dark and inscrutable. "Just remember—it's your first time attending such an event. Watch yourself, or don't blame me, your ex-boyfriend, for being... less than forgiving."

There was an icy edge to his voice that sent a chill down Isabelle's spine.

Feigning composure, she smiled weakly. "Understood. Thank you for the reminder."

William strode toward the private room.

Isabelle followed closely, her posture demure and obedient.

*****

Inside the private room, the Marquis of Brunei—an overweight man with an oily demeanor—rose to greet them. William's assistant had already prepped the room, ensuring his identity remained concealed. For tonight's dinner, William was not the Crown Prince but merely a staff member.

"You're early, sir," Victor said.

William nodded slightly, but Victor's eyes already lit up as they landed on Isabelle.

"And who is this lovely lady? I don't believe we've met before," Victor said, his tone dripping with sleaze as he extended a pudgy hand.

"Isabelle Winsor," she replied curtly, offering a brief handshake before pulling her hand back. The greasy sensation made her stomach churn.

"Ah, what a beautiful name," Victor praised, his eyes lingering far too long on her figure.

Without a word, William stepped forward, subtly positioning himself between Isabelle and Victor. His voice was calm but firm. "Let's get started."

Hearing this, Victor immediately led William toward the booth with a respectful demeanor.

Although Victor was initially wary of William, the fact that he didn't seem to be protecting Isabelle quickly put him at ease. It became clear that tonight, this lady might very well be his for the taking.

As they approached the table, Victor couldn't resist a small ploy. Grabbing Isabelle's hand, he pulled her toward him, forcing her to sit beside him.

Caught off guard, Isabelle nearly tumbled into the obese man's lap.

She shot a startled, pleading look at William, silently asking for help, but he simply leaned back, his lips curved in an inscrutable smile. He made no move to intervene.

"Sir, you don't mind, do you?" Victor asked, his tone laced with false courtesy.

William seated himself on Isabelle's other side, his expression neutral. "Not at all."

His tone was casual, but Isabelle detected an undercurrent of menace.

Taking this as permission, Victor grew bolder, leaning closer to Isabelle. "Ms. Winsor, your skin is so smooth," he murmured, his lecherous gaze lingering. "Like a perfectly peeled egg."

William's anger simmered beneath the surface, but he maintained his composure. His gaze turned cold as he said, "Mr. Brunei, you're leaning too close. Isabelle looks uncomfortable."

Victor straightened slightly, forcing a sheepish laugh. "Apologies, she's simply too stunning to resist."

Though his words were apologetic, his actions weren't. His hand reached toward Isabelle again, but this time, William's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Ms. Winsor is the Second Prince's wife, Mr. Brunei. I suggest you respect that."

His tone remained polite, but the warning was unmistakable.

Victor's expression shifted, a trace of fear flashing across his face.

The Second Prince's wife...

If he dared to cross the line, the consequences from the Second Prince would be severe.

Moreover, William, the Crown Prince, was sitting right there, watching everything unfold.

"My apologies, that was truly thoughtless of me," Victor stammered, hastily withdrawing his hand.

William's demeanor didn't change, but he subtly shifted to shield Winsor from Victor's view.

Picking up his glass of wine, he swirled it lightly, his dark gaze piercing. "Shall we return to business, Mr. Brunei?"

The veiled threat in his tone left no room for argument.

Victor nodded reluctantly, turning his attention back to the negotiations.

Beside William, Isabelle listened to the discussion, her fingers brushing the small vial in her pocket.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down to see a message from Evelyn.

Evelyn: Slip the d**g into the Crown Prince's drink. If you fail this time, you know the consequences.

Just as she had suspected—it was a philter.