Chapter 1
On the day the King's Tutor, Andy Saunders, got married, I was already three months pregnant.
The white wedding dress was his bride's, the gifts were hers, and the grand procession, the lavish display, all hers.
I stood alone in the side courtyard, one hand resting on my belly, silent. That night, I quietly packed my things and slipped away.
Five years later, I, the richest man in Southbank, arrived in the Capital with my prodigy son.
Andy praised my son's intelligence before the King and even asked to take him on as his last disciple.
The King was delighted and hosted a grand party.
Andy walked over to me, a glass of wine in hand, his eyes burning with barely contained excitement. "Had your fun? It's time to bring the kid home with me."
I smiled and refilled his glass. "You must have me confused with someone else. My husband is waiting for me outside."
His hand shook, wine splashing onto the ground.
*****
Andy's mansion was ablaze with decorations—everywhere you looked, red roses filled the air.
From the front courtyard, the joyous music and laughter thundered so loudly it felt like the whole city might be shaken to its core.
I stood alone in the side courtyard, beneath the covered walkway.
The wind swept up the dead leaves, spinning them in circles, carrying a chill of loneliness through the air.
Cold seeped through the air.
I wrapped my old cloak tighter around myself and touched my belly, already starting to show.
Three months in, a tiny life was already growing inside me.
It was Andy's baby.
Mine, too.
Today, he was tying the knot.
He was marrying Grace Hardy, the only daughter of the Chancellor, Dexter Hardy.
She had noble lineage, and their families were a match made in heaven—equally prestigious.
The white wedding dress was hers.
The gifts were hers.
And the grand procession, the lavish display, all hers.
What was I to him?
I was the orphan he rescued from the snow, Sapphire Chasey.
He kept me close, taught me to read and write, and nurtured me with patience.
And I was also the woman he claimed in a moment of drunken desire.
Andy was the King's Tutor, wielding power that stretched across the entire court.
He was the one every noblewoman in the Capital secretly dreamed of, the man who haunted their hearts.
He was always calm and composed, always a step ahead, never losing his grip on the situation.
Except for that one unforgettable night.
The moon was shining bright, and he'd drunk far too much. In his eyes, I saw an unfathomable sorrow and anguish that I couldn't quite grasp.
He held me tight, whispering my name again and again.
"Sapphire, Sapphire..."
His voice was rough, laced with the scent of alcohol, and carried a barely noticeable fragility.
I couldn't push him away.
Maybe, deep down, I never wanted to push him away at all.
I'd loved him since I was just a little girl.
A love so humble and hidden, it was the deepest secret buried in my heart.
I thought that night would change everything.
But the next day, he was back to his usual cold and aloof self.
He sat at his writing desk, his gaze deep and unreadable as he looked at me.
"Forget it," he said.
Just two words, and he closed the chapter on that night between us, as if it never mattered.
I bowed my head and murmured, "Alright."
What else could I possibly say?
I was nothing more than something he owned, never had the right to ask for anything.
A month later, I discovered I was carrying his child.
My heart was in chaos; all I could think of was running to him.
But before I could, I heard he was getting engaged to Grace, the Chancellor's daughter.
I stood outside his study, holding freshly brewed soup, quietly listening as he spoke with his trusted aide.
"My lord, are you really sure about this? What about Ms. Chasey?" the aide asked.
"I'll take care of her," Andy replied, his voice flat, without a hint of emotion. "An alliance with the Hardy family is the best way to stabilize the court at the moment."
"But... Ms. Chasey has been by your side for so many years," the aide said quietly.
There was a brief silence from inside the study.
Then Andy spoke, his voice cold and detached, "She'll understand."
At that moment, my hands trembled and the tray slipped.
Hot soup splashed onto my hand, but I barely felt the pain.
The chill in my heart numbed me to everything else.
I scoffed to myself, the word "understand" stinging more than the hot soup.