The Masked Princess Bound To The King She Hates
Princess Ella walks down the aisle to marry the man who destroyed her life.
Behind her mask lies a secret powerful enough to bring a kingdom to its knees-and a revenge plan years in the making. To the world, she is a quiet and obedient queen. In truth, she is a survivor who has come to finish what war began.
But King Augustine is not a man easily deceived.
Cold, intelligent, and dangerously observant, he quickly realizes his new bride is hiding more than she shows. Instead of exposing her, he watches... waits... and begins a silent game where every glance, every word, and every move becomes a test.
As tension builds inside the palace, a survivor from Ella's past arrives-someone who can reveal her identity and destroy everything she has planned.
Now trapped between revenge and survival, Ella must decide how far she is willing to go.
Because in a marriage built on lies, one truth could ruin them both-
or bring them closer than either ever intended.
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Chapter 4
That night didn't bring any rest. Just silence.
Queen Ella reclined on the side of the bed, completely still, but her mind was busy with thoughts. The burden of the day was heavy upon her breast--the marriage, the feast, the never-ending questions, and the manner in which King Augustine had looked at her, as though he knew it all.
The king, lying next to her, had at last fallen asleep. She observed it slowly. Initially, it was merely the stillness. Then she heard the regular rhythm of his breathing, restrained and nearly too perfect to be that of a man at rest.
Queen Ella glanced over her shoulder, lest she should wake him. She observed him. Even in sleep, there was nothing casual about him. His face was determined, his pose stiff, so that even when asleep he could not relax his vigilance. Even in his dreams, a dangerous man.
With a little sigh she turned her back. She should have slept easily after such a long day but it eluded her. Whenever she shut her eyes, the memories came back to her-flames, screams, the palace falling round her, the voice of her father, firm and authoritative, telling her to live.
Her hands were clasped together. Survive. And that was what she had done. And that was what she was doing still. However, this night was different. It was the first night since then that she was not sure who her real enemy was.
Queen Ella closed her eyes. Minutes went by--it might have been minutes, or more. Sleep touched her, and slipped away again. She awoke her eyes. The room appeared the same, but the candles had been lowered, and their light was less strong and cast long shadows on the walls.
She moved a little, taking care not to disturb him, but even then that little movement brought her to remember how close he was. Too near. Her eyes went back to him, to his back, to the scar which she could just make out under the loose cloth. Jagged. Unforgiving. A flashback of that evening and what she thought he had done.
Her chest tightened. Out of war, he had said. But she had known.At least. she thought so. Or at least... she thought she did.
Queen Ella quickly looked away, trying to shove her thoughts back. No. She could not spare the suspicion. Skepticism was a sign of weakness and weakness might be her death.
Hours dragged on. The night was interminable. Sleep was in bits--short, shallow, and disjointed. Whenever she fell asleep, she woke up. Whenever she awoke, she looked around the room, the door, and him. Still there. Still asleep. Still-watching?
The thought made her freeze.
Queen Ella glanced round, thoughtfully. He hadn't moved. His breathing was regular. But there was something wrong. Too still. Too quiet.
Her heart started beating.
She sat up slowly, the bed shifting slightly beneath her, but he didn't react. Still asleep.
Queen Ella swung her feet to the floor, and her movements were quiet and restrained. The chill of the surface on which she lay brought her to her senses. She needed air. Space. Distance.
She stepped towards the window, every step being light and calculated, and she listened to see whether anything was going on behind her. There was none.
As she got to the window, she put her hand on the frame and peeped out. The sky was black and silent, and the dim silhouette of the palace grounds was hardly visible below. Peaceful. Deceptive. Nothing was safe about this place.
"You don't sleep."
The voice was behind her, and she instantly stood still. She stopped to catch her breath.
Slowly, she turned.
Augustine was no longer lying down, but sat up, and looked full at her. Awake. Watching.
Her pulse quickened.
You were up, she said to herself.
"Not at first."
His answer was calm. Too calm.
How long, she said.
A pause. Then-
"Long enough."
The words were heavy in the air. The fingers of Queen Ella clenched together. And so he had been observing her, examining her, even in the darkness.
Why feign to sleep? she inquired.
King Augustine stood, without haste, as though he had been anticipating this.
To know what thou wouldost do, he answered.
Shivers ran along her spine.
"And? What have you learnt?
He moved near, not hastily, not menacingly, but intentionally.
I found out you do not believe in what is around you, he said, and took another step. That you wake frequently. That you look about as a person who fears an attack.
He stopped in front of her, close-too close.
And above all, he said, his voice a little lower, you act as though you had a secret.
Queen Ella stood still with her heart thudding, yet her face was calm.
You are watchful, you are watchful, she said.
And you are wary, he answered.
There was a silence between them that was tense and unforgiving.
And then he stretched out.
Queen Ella stood still, but rather than his hand touching her face, it touched her wrist, only once,--enough to make her feel her pulse, which was rapid and uncontrolled.
He noticed. Of course he did.
You are afraid, he said to himself.
Queen Ella withdrew her hand. "I am cautious."
"Of me?"
"Yes."
The response was too easy. King Augustine gazed long at her.
"No." he said.
The silence was definite, sure.
Thou hast no fear of me.
The breath of Queen Ella came a little short.
Then what is it I fear?
There was another, longer pause, more calculated.
The truth. he said.
The term hit home more than it ought to have. Queen Ella was aware of it--painful and rough. It seemed real because it felt so in a moment.
The morning sun started to creep through the window, soft and pale, inevitable. The night was over, but whatever this was between them-it wasn't.
Augustine swiveled his head around, and looked at the light and then at her.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
"Neither did you."
There was a slight change in his face--almost a smile.
I did not, unlike you, he said.
Queen Ella scowled a little. "Why?" she asked
His response was prompt.
I wanted to see you.
She stopped her breath, but this time it was not fear. It was not that--it was not what she understood.
They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.
A voice called to you, Your Majesty. The council is waiting.
King Augustine didn't look away from his wife Queen Ella.
Wait, he said, tell them to wait.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Footsteps died away, and silence fell again.
But not for long.
This time he came still nearer, nearer than before--near enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, near enough that there was no distance between them.
His eyes fell a moment on her mask and then went back to her eyes.
I shall ask thee, I will ask thee, he said.
The heart of Queen Ella beat.
"If I remove this..."
His hand rose once more, slow and deliberate.".what shall I find?
"...what will I find?"
All in her cried to retreat, to flee, to halt him. But she didn't move. She couldn't move. Something had told her that running now would make everything true.
So she stood and looked up at him.
Thou shalt find thy queen, she said.
Silence.
Then a little change of expression--not faith, not unfaith, but something between.
And again he dropped his hand.
This time, however, it was not a distance, but decision.
Quite all right, I said. "For now."
The words gave her a chilly shiver. They were not a culmination, but a commencement.
King Augustine was about to turn and go, but Queen Ella stood where she was, her heart still a-throbbing, her mind confused. He was coming nearer--nearer than she had intended, nearer than she was prepared. And one false step she made, and all would have been ruined.
The door opened and closed behind her.
Queen Ella took a breath, the first one she had breathed since she had entered the palace.
But the question was--heavy and inevitable--more dangerous than ever--
how many days would she be able to conceal herself before the king who knows all sees her?
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8.6
In my past life, the Cerberus strain leaked, turning the world into a blood-soaked hell of rotting flesh and mutated monsters.
I thought my boyfriend Declan and my best friend Hailee would have my back as we fled the quarantine zone.
Instead, when the surging crowd of the infected cornered us, they didn't hesitate.
They shoved me backward into the horde just to buy themselves three seconds to run.
As I fell into the mud, I saw them fleeing without a single backward glance.
"She's dead weight anyway!" Hailee screamed.
"Just keep running, she'll distract them!" Declan yelled back.
I was torn apart, feeling the agonizing tear of rotting teeth sinking into my neck and the hot spray of my own blood.
Before the apocalypse, my greedy uncle had locked away my ten-million-dollar trust fund, leaving me with nothing but a fake boyfriend who only wanted me for my money.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the people I loved most could trade my life for a head start.
Why did I blindly trust them? Why didn't I see through their perfectly choreographed lies?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of decaying flesh vanished, replaced by the sterile smell of my college dorm room.
Hailee and Declan were standing over my bed, faking tears of concern over my meningitis fever.
I was back exactly seven days before the world ended, and my spatial vault ability had come back with me.
This time, I'm extorting my uncle for every cent, hoarding the city's supplies, and leaving them all to rot.
8.0
Scarlett Hayes thought marrying James Whitmore would finally make her family see her as more than a burden.
Instead, it destroyed her life.
Framed for crimes she didn't commit, betrayed by the people she trusted most, and sentenced to prison while pregnant, Scarlett lost everything in a single night.
Then came the cruelest blow of all.
After giving birth in chains, she was told her baby had died.
The people responsible believed she would spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars.
They were wrong.
Five years later, Scarlett returns.
No longer the discarded daughter of the Hayes family. No longer the broken woman they left behind.
Now she is Commander Scarlett Hayes-a decorated war hero, the unseen force behind a global intelligence empire, and a woman powerful enough to make governments tremble.
She comes back for one reason only: revenge.
Her ex-husband, the stepsister who stole her life, and the family who buried her alive are about to learn exactly what happens when a woman with nothing left to lose takes back everything they stole.
But as Scarlett tears through the secrets of her past, one truth threatens to change everything-
the child she mourned for years may not be dead.
And the mysterious man connected to the night that changed her life has been watching from the shadows all along.
9.0
The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders.
"Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now."
He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party.
When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests.
Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim.
Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat.
"I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime."
A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed?
Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.
8.8
"Fuck...please..."
He risks a nibble, sending shockwaves to my core. My back arches off the wall with a sharp moan.
His hand slides between my legs, cupping my soaking panties.
"Look how wet you are," he whispers, "...shaking, and I haven't even fucked you yet."
He strokes my clit gently first, then harder. My toes curl, hair spilling into my sweaty face.
He's breaking me, ruining me with just his tongue and fingers. I can't speak. I can't think. I just tremble in his arms.
*********
The night I caught my fiancé cheating, something in me broke.
I cried.
I screamed.
I drove - into the rain, into nowhere, into him.
Cassian Cross.
A stranger with gray eyes, a sinful mouth, and hands that made me forget my name.
One night was all it took. One reckless mistake to burn away my heartbreak.
Until he showed up at my mom's wedding...
As my new stepbrother.
Now, Cassian won't stop.
He corners me in hallways, whispers filth at the altar, and looks at me like he still owns my body.
But there's one thing he didn't tell me-
He already belongs to someone else.
A fiancée bound to him by a contract... and a secret that could destroy us both.
He's dangerous.
He's forbidden.
He's promised to another.
And God help me, I still can't stop wanting him.
8.9
My family's company went bankrupt, and my biological father was lying in the ICU, kept alive by machines that cost tens of thousands a day.
I thought it was just a tragic business failure, until I caught my mother in bed with my stepfather.
They had secretly transferred all our assets months ago, deliberately bankrupting the company and leaving my father to die.
To pay the hospital bills, my stepfather forced me to a private club, trying to sell me to a sleazy investor.
When I refused, he slapped me across the face, and my mother just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Be realistic, Jaelynn. A woman's body is a tool. Use it to get what you need."
Later, right before my father's emergency surgery, my stepfather signed a Do Not Resuscitate order and froze the medical accounts.
"If you don't get on your knees and spread your legs for him, I will tell the hospital to pull your father's plug."
Standing in the freezing rain, covered in mud and blood, I stared at the astronomical hospital bill in my hand.
My own family had plotted to murder my father and sell me to the highest bidder. The betrayal shattered every ounce of sanity I had left.
I didn't cry or beg them anymore.
Instead, I pulled out a water-stained, gold-embossed business card.
It belonged to Dolph Valentine, the most ruthless billionaire in New York and my ex-fiancé's uncle.
If they wanted to destroy my life, I was going to sell my soul to the biggest monster of them all and drag them straight to hell.
9.5
My husband told me I was a contractual obligation, an irritant he was forced to endure after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a social media influencer, a woman whose lies were as polished as her feed.
But when her baby was found with a small cut on her lip, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous monster who attacked an innocent child.
My husband, the man I had stood by through everything, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he ordered a guard to take a needle and thread and sew my lips shut.
"She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had me hung upside down in the lobby of my own wellness retreat, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I dangled there, bleeding and broken, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I' d planted in the baby's room. And they had no idea that my family could crush his entire empire with a single phone call.