Chapter 4
After that day, my parents never came back to the house.
So I put on a proper gown. I walked, with a calm I didn't feel, back to the door of Alina's house.
The servant who opened the door saw me and hurried off to announce my arrival.
I didn't push past him. I simply waited.
Soon enough, my parents rushed out, their faces wary and already looking annoyed.
I didn't throw a fit.
I kept my composure and spoke evenly, "You arranged a match for Alina. With the Crown Prince.
"Then I want the same.
"A marriage. One equal to hers in every way."
This wasn't a request.
It was a statement. A demand for the compensation I was owed.
"An equal match to the Crown Prince?" my father echoed, his voice thick with contempt.
"You truly believe a girl of your bearing should aim so high?" He scoffed.
"Look at yourself. Do you carry yourself like a lady of this house? Even a respectable merchant's son would hesitate to take a wife who makes such scenes," he spat, full of contempt.
I lifted my head and met his gaze, my face showing none of the embarrassment or shame he was hoping for.
"It's true. I lack Alina's grace. No one ever taught me," I replied, my tone surprisingly calm.
I paused for a moment.
"But since the Crown Prince is meant to marry an Evans heiress, why not let the actual heiress be the one?" I said, my voice steady and unyielding.
"It would solve everything. You wouldn't have to worry about me ruining Alina's spotless name or tarnishing His Highness'," I added, my voice thick with sarcasm.
My mother gasped, her hands flying up in panic.
"Serena, do not speak of the impossible! The Crown Princess is Alina. It is decided. You cannot undo it on a whim," she cried, her voice shaking with shock.
My father stayed silent.
His gaze locked onto me, really seeing me as his daughter for the first time.
He had never found value in me before.
To him, I was a ticking time bomb—unpredictable, a constant source of anxiety wherever I went.
He rubbed his temples, looking utterly exhausted.
"The Crown Princess has already been chosen. This is a matter of state, not a child's bargaining chip," he said, his voice heavy with weariness.
"As for your marriage... I'll give it consideration," he said, his voice cold and distant.
He had not agreed. He had not promised.
Only "consideration."
I knew that was the only concession I would ever receive.
I did not argue. I simply dipped into a slight curtsy.
"Thank you, Father," I said.
The door closed behind me, shutting out the world inside.
I no longer hoped they'd carefully plot and invest their feelings in me like they did for Alina.
Instead, I made them see me as a piece on their board—someone whose value had to be weighed.
It suited me just fine.
If I couldn't have their love, I would have my share.
If I couldn't choose a marriage, I would turn it into a deal.
The game had just begun.
And I would set the rules.
*****
When the royal invitation arrived, I was in my room, studying the profiles my matron had quietly gathered for me. They listed princes, heirs, their prospects, and their flaws.
On the night of the court function, I wore a gown that was modest and correct. My hair was flawless.
I could sense the laughter, the conversations, and the eyes sizing me up from all directions.
Glances were exchanged behind fans and cups.
And at the center of every whisper was me—the real Evans heiress.
My gaze settled on a quiet corner of the hall, a place nearly forgotten.
A young man sat there alone.
He kept to himself, neither speaking to anyone nor attracting any greetings.
He seemed a world apart from the glittering crowd.
It was Prince Joseph Carlson.
From the fragments I'd pieced together, his mother was lowborn and died young. He was sent abroad as a political ward as a child and had only returned last year.
He held the title of prince, but had no family behind him.
The king paid him little mind. At court, he was a ghost.
Just then, he seemed to sense my gaze and turned his head.
Our eyes met.
There was no surprise in his, no particular interest. Just a calm acknowledgment.
He knew he didn't belong there, and it seemed he had made peace with that.
We were both outsiders.
A hostage prince, with neither love nor power to his name. It was a gamble.
But a man with nothing might be willing to make a deal.
And as a prince, his rank was equal to that of the Crown Prince, Troy Carlson.
In theory, he had a claim to the throne.
An idea flickered quietly within me, like a spark catching fire.
Father said I would never make a good match, that I'd be settled somewhere, out of the way.
But what if I chose the one no one wanted—the one with everything to gain?
I excused myself, claiming I needed air, and slipped away from my mother.
I walked toward a quieter corridor.