The Prince's Mistress
To defend the stolen goods, Elena jumped off a tall building.
But it was surprisingly, he went into the other world and lost his loot stone.
Turns out there, the great thief must compete with the harem and try to recover the stone, to return to the world.
Will she be queen of the prince and find a ruby stone? Is it what Elena would choose, to defend her life now or return to her world?
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Chapter 6
"Where is that woman!" Popoh paced outside the hall. Several women from the lower-class harem were with her.
Both Popoh and Patra had worried looks on their faces. They couldn't just leave the hall. If they did, then a dungeon sentence awaited.
Patra wrung her hands. She occasionally bit her lower lip. It had been a few minutes, but Ayla had not returned.
"Popoh, is it possible that Ayla got lost?" Patra ventured to ask. After all, for Patra Ayla was the only friend who could make her feel less lonely in the harem.
"What a fool she is!" Popoh snorted in annoyance. "We can't report her missing now. You see, the princes are at a banquet with the nobles. Why take care of a low-caste slave!"
Patra was getting more and more frantic, not realizing that her eyes were dewy again. To Patra, Ayla was more than a friend. The two of them were like brothers.
They were brought from a distant land.
Ayla was forcibly taken from the eastern country called Mur, a very beautiful country with land like a green emerald stone, while Patra was taken from the western country called Atlanta, a country that was no less beautiful even though it was surrounded by snow mountains.
"Ayla, where are you, don't ever leave me alone again." Patra muttered under her breath as she held the tightness in her chest, she was so afraid of losing Ayla for the second time.
While the privileged harem residents were serving the princes and nobles in the hall, the low-caste harem was still waiting for their turn to serve the nobles.
However, if Popoh had brought out the harems, it meant they were no longer needed. The low-class harems had to leave the event.
"You'd better go back to the harems," Popoh invited.
"But, what about Ayla?" Patra asked in a worried tone.
"We'll look for her tomorrow!" Popoh was already furious at having to wait for Ayla's return.
He also seemed to think that the slave girl would easily return to the main palace. Moreover, there was still a forest behind the palace.
Popoh hoped that Ayla would be fine, if she was unlucky, then wild animals would tear her apart.
Popoh began to step out of the hall. The five young women of the harem were forced to follow her into the harem.
Despite her apprehension, Patra was forced to follow Popoh. She would rather wait in the harem while praying that Ayla was okay out there.
***
"You!" The handsome man with caramel eyes removed his hand from Ayla's back.
A thumping sound accompanied by a small hiss split the silence of the forest.
"Aauuggh, why did you remove your hand." Ayla rubbed her butt where it collided with the ground.
"Go away!" Prince Deniz, with his cold gaze while putting the dagger back into its sheath.
"I'm lost, Tu... I mean, Prince." Ayla dared to stare at the cold face with a pitiable look.
Though in her heart, she harbored a sense of awe as she gazed at the beautiful face with a firm jaw and a gaze as sharp as a hawk before her.
'Handsome, handsome, handsome. Why can't they see the prince's good looks. His face may be cold, but the aura of his good looks is mesmerizing' Ayla thought to herself as she lingered and satisfied herself staring at that face.
"What do you want!" That cold gaze again jolted all of Ayla's nerves.
"Mir... Hhmm I mean, just want to go home because I got lost." Ayla corrected her words. She almost mentioned the ruby mirah stone. Her brown eyes occasionally glanced at the sword hanging from the third prince's left waist.
"There's nothing harem girls want more than to chase after princes and nobles!" said Prince Deniz in a cold tone. "You're wrong! There are many other princes and crown princes, you can woo them!"
'What does the prince mean' Ayla's mind wandered. There must be something wrong with that dashing and beautiful prince.
"You're wrong, Prince. I am completely lost. I know you are the kindest prince in all this land." Ayla ventured to touch Prince Deniz's arm.
The man gasped, staring at Ayla's hand as he frowned deeply. Perhaps in his mind, this woman who was near him was very impolite.
"Take my hand away from my arm!" Prince Deniz's order had a cold tone. Ayla quickly moved her tiny hand away from the sturdy arm.
Prince Deniz, without saying anything, walked away quickly. Ayla, who didn't understand, followed and tried to keep up with the prince.
"Prince, wait!" Ayla felt her leg ache again. She grimaced, apparently the slave Elena's legs were really weak. She couldn't even walk a short distance.
Prince Deniz continued to walk away from the forest behind the palace. Ayla cursed inwardly, why was that gallant man so cold. Had he never wanted a woman in his life.
"Prince ...." Ayla ventured to call out to the man softly. "Are we still long."
"I never intended to escort you," Prince Deniz replied dryly. "I'm going back to my palace."
"So, you want to take me to your palace?" Ayla quickened her pace, now right beside the prince.
"Sorry, I've never been interested in taking a slave to my palace!" Prince Deniz's words were quite scathing. Ayla stuck out her tongue for the prince. Mocking. As a sign of her anger.
"Then, why are you walking home now. I only asked to be escorted to the harem. That's all, nothing more." Ayla seemed to urge the prince.
"I never said I would escort you!" The prince's words remained the same, scathing and cynical. "And don't ask so many questions!"
"Is it unbecoming of a slave like me to even ask questions of a prince like you? How can he rule a kingdom and provide prosperity for his people, if you are reluctant to honor a slave?" Ayla's words made Prince Deniz flinch, he stopped his steps. Feeling disturbed by Ayla's words.
"Oouuwwgg!" Ayla rubbed the tip of her nose. Because of the prince's sudden stop, she was unable to control her pace.
"You're a slave, but your mouth is so spicy!" Prince Deniz's words were cold. Ayla gasped as she found herself standing right in front of the prince. Standing tall, Ayla was only as tall as the man's chest, she even had to look up to gaze at the dashing figure before her.
"A slave or a prince, it's just a title. Just different family status. However, both slaves and nobles are still human beings who have the same status in the eyes of God," Ayla replied equally harshly.
Prince Deniz grunted in annoyance, as he seemed to have been overwhelmed by the beautiful and intelligent slave's chatter.
He did not deny that the beautiful slave was able to make feelings stir in certain very sensitive parts of him. For this reason, he tried to refrain from looking at Ayla for long.
Prince Deniz shook his head, he turned his body around again. Without saying anything, Ayla could only follow where the man went.
A few moments later.
"I can finally see the light!" Ayla was excited and walked ahead of Prince Deniz. She was in front of him now. "But where is the harem?"
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9.2
My world shattered twice. First, the ocean claimed my son. Then, the mountain road took another, a direct sacrifice to the man I loved and the woman he chose. In the hospital, beeps marked the emptiness where my second son used to be, echoing the first loss, both involving Holden and Giana.
During the car crash, I was pinned, bleeding, and trapped. Holden, my partner, looked me in the eyes, then chose to save Giana, abandoning me and our unborn child.
Soon, I overheard Holden praising Giana for turning our tragedy into a PR win. His hollow apologies and focus on Giana’s "miracle work" reignited the brutal memory of her push and his past denials.
A decade of sacrificing my life and two children for a man who saw me as a liability left a bitter taste. His choice was clear; only profound abandonment remained.
But this time, I was choosing me. From my profound loss, a dangerous spark ignited: I would not just survive; I would find freedom and make him pay.
7.2
He was my first love. My first everything.
Now he's my stepson.
One night changed everything. Ten years couldn't make us forget. But loving him now could destroy us all.
Ethan Cole was the boy who held my heart. My first kiss. My first time. My first real love. We planned a future together, whispered forever, believed nothing could tear us apart.
Then prom night happened.
I woke up alone in a hotel room with no memory of how I got there, and Ethan was gone. Vanished. The rumors said he got what he wanted and got tired of me. I spent a decade believing I wasn't enough.
So I moved on. I built walls. I found Harrison to be kind, stable, and safe, and I said yes when he asked me to marry him.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
Because Harrison's son? The one living in the guest house? The one I'll see at family dinners and weddings, and holidays for the rest of my life?
It's Ethan.
My Ethan.
The boy who broke me. The man I never stopped loving. And when I look into his whiskey-colored eyes, I see the same hunger, the same pain, the same unanswered questions burning in me.
He says he never left me. He says prom night was a setup. He says he's loved me every single day for the past ten years.
And God help me... I believe him.
But how do I choose between the man who gave me a future and the man who still owns my past?
How do I resist the only love that ever felt like home?
And how do I survive when my heart is tearing me in two?
9.0
To save her dying mother, Adaline walked into the Waldorf Astoria to deliver a shirt to her fiancé.
She didn't know her stepsister, June, had swapped her keycard. Adaline stumbled into a pitch-black suite and was brutally assaulted by a stranger in the dark.
The nightmare didn't end there. June paid off the only bone marrow donor for Adaline's mother to flee the city, and stole Adaline's fiancé. Bankrupt and desperate, Adaline was forced to sell herself into a loveless marriage with the ruthless billionaire Ferris Finch just to secure a medical team.
But when Ferris saw the dark, violent bruises covering her body, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
"You make me sick. Pack up your cheap tricks."
He mocked her, calling her a filthy woman who couldn't even wash her lover's marks off before crawling into his house.
Adaline swallowed her pride and endured his cruel humiliation. When June publicly taunted her about the hotel assault, Adaline finally snapped, ending up handcuffed in a freezing police cell.
She thought she was completely out of moves, waiting to rot in prison while her new husband despised her.
But back at the estate, Ferris had just pulled the hotel's security footage.
Staring at the screen, the arrogant billionaire's face turned completely ashen.
He finally realized that the innocent woman he had destroyed in the dark that night, and the wife he was currently torturing, were the exact same person.
8.9
Three years after I buried an empty casket for my husband, I found him alive in a grocery store parking lot.
He was rubbing a stranger's pregnant belly, smiling a soft smile I had never seen in our years of marriage.
My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, had become "Arthur," a gentle man with no memory of the empire he ruled or the wife he left behind.
To protect his happiness, I swallowed my agony and lied.
"I am his cousin," I told his pregnant fiancée, Mia.
I brought them home to his estate, enduring the torture of watching him give her the tenderness that used to belong to me.
But my mercy was rewarded with cruelty.
Dante looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes and slapped divorce papers onto the table.
"Sign them," he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "I want to marry Mia before the baby comes. I want a fresh start."
He didn't know I was dying of a heart defect caused by the stress of grieving him.
He didn't know I stalled for two weeks not for money, but because I wanted to be buried with his name.
I died the morning the deadline arrived, taking the secret of my love to the grave.
Ironically, that very night, a bullet grazed his temple during an ambush, unlocking the memories he had lost.
He remembered the peach orchard. He remembered our blood oath. He remembered that I was his soulmate.
He ran to my brother’s gates, screaming my name, blood pouring down his face, desperate to beg for forgiveness.
But my brother just stood there, blocking the entrance to the cemetery with a cruel smile.
"She waited for you every single day," he spat.
"And you killed her."
7.6
I pulled the perfectly baked Beef Wellington from the oven, its rich scent filling our Manhattan penthouse. For five years, I’d crafted this perfect life, but tonight, I’d discover my entire existence was a cruel, silent lie. The man I loved had built it all on betrayal.
Preparing our anniversary dinner, I reflected on five years of building a flawless home for Blake, a dream I’d never known.
Searching for a pen, I found a hidden compartment in Blake’s desk containing a cheap black USB drive—a significant secret for a man who despised anything less than perfect.
His MacBook unlocked with his birthday, not ours. The USB, after a near-data-wipe, revealed "The Archives": hundreds of photos of Blake with his college girlfriend, Isabelle, passionate love letters, and a wardrobe chosen to mirror hers. My name yielded "0 results found," while millions were wired to Isabelle.
I was a meticulously funded stand-in, a ghost he dressed up to play house. My non-existence in his world and his financial betrayal ignited a cold, burning rage.
Blake returned, dismissive, offering a delayed anniversary gift. I confronted him; he ripped the USB, snapped it, and stated, "Nothing changes, as long as you know your place." My obedience shattered: "I want a divorce," I declared, then destroyed dinner and packed my own bag.
8.9
I spent five years protecting Grafton Mcleod, the ruthless King of Chicago. Not because I loved him, but because I swore a blood oath to his dying brother to keep him alive.
On the day my contract ended, I placed my resignation on his desk.
Grafton didn't just refuse it; he laughed.
"You don't resign, Cayla. You belong to me."
He thought I was a jealous, obsessed assistant in love with him. He let his cruel fiancée, Cherrelle, torment me daily.
He forced me to drain my own blood to save her after she faked an accident.
He threw me into a freezing fountain when she lied about me pushing her.
But the final straw came when he dragged me to a syndicate gala. He didn't take me as a guest. He put me on stage, in a silk dress and a collar, and sold me to his enemy for five million dollars.
"This is what happens to property that misbehaves," he sneered as the gavel came down.
I escaped that night, but I didn't run away. I drove to the bridge where his brother died.
I left my phone on the railing and let the icy water take me, finally free of my debt.
It was only when Grafton stood on that bridge, holding my cracked phone, that he learned the truth.
He unlocked it and saw my wallpaper. It wasn't him. It was his dead brother.
And the diary inside revealed that the woman he was about to marry was the one who had ordered the hit that killed him.