Chapter 4 - The Beggar’s Petition
The Royal Consulate of Eldoria in Boston was a historic, sprawling limestone mansion in the heart of Beacon Hill. It was a place of high security, iron gates, and bulletproof glass—a stark contrast to the crumbling Newport mansion the Kensingtons had once occupied.
Three days after the destruction of Cliffside Manor, I stood in the consulate’s private office, looking at my reflection in a grand, gold-leaf mirror.
I was barely recognizable.
The tired, overworked girl in the grease-stained wedding dress was gone. In her place stood a woman wearing a tailored emerald-green silk dress that complemented my amber eyes. My dark hair was styled in elegant, glossy waves, and a delicate, diamond-encrusted crescent moon pendant—the royal crest of Eldoria—hung around my neck.
"Princess Amalia," Victor, my newly appointed personal security detail, said as he knocked softly on the door frame. "There is a woman at the gates demanding an audience. She has been waiting for four hours."
I turned slowly. "Who is it?"
"Victoria Kensington," Victor replied, a small, knowing smirk touching his lips. "She is unaccompanied. She looks... less than pristine."
"Bring her up," I said, walking over to the massive mahogany desk and sitting down. I crossed my legs, resting my hands—now completely healed, with only faint, fading pink marks where the burns had been—on the desk.
A few minutes later, the double doors opened, and Victoria was escorted into the room.
If I hadn't known who she was, I wouldn't have recognized her. The proud, diamond-dripping matriarch of Newport was gone. She wore a wrinkled beige trench coat, her hair was unstyled and frizzy, and her eyes were bloodshot and hollow. She looked ten years older.
She stepped into the office, her eyes scanning the luxury of the room before locking onto me. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Meline..." she whispered, taking a desperate step forward before Victor blocked her with a stern, warning glare.
"My name is Princess Amalia, Victoria," I said, my voice smooth and level, completely devoid of any emotion. "You will address me as such."
Victoria’s lips trembled, a look of profound humiliation crossing her face. But desperation is a powerful motivator. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands clutching the edge of my desk.
"Amalia... please," she sobbed, tears spilling down her wrinkled cheeks. "You have to help us. They’ve taken everything. The bank seized Cliffside. They took our cars, our accounts... even my jewelry. Preston and I are staying in a cheap, horrible motel in South Boston. It's... it's disgusting! There are bugs, Amalia!"
"Is there?" I asked, leaning back in my chair. "That’s a shame. I lived in places like that for eighteen years, Victoria. I survived. I'm sure you and your brilliant son can manage."
"Please, we didn't know!" she begged, her voice rising to a frantic shriek. "If we had known who you were, we would have treated you like a queen! I would have given you the grandest wedding Boston has ever seen! It was all a mistake, a terrible, horrible mistake!"
"No, Victoria," I said, leaning forward, my eyes locking onto hers with an icy intensity.
"It wasn't a mistake. You treated me like garbage because you thought I was defenseless. You thought I had no one to stand up for me. You only regret your actions now because I have the power to destroy you. That is not regret. That is cowardice."
"Please..." she whispered, her head bowing to the floor. "Preston is falling apart. He’s... he’s not well, Amalia. He’s drinking, he’s furious. If you could just give us a small loan... just a few million to get back on our feet... we'll disappear! We'll never bother you again!"
"A loan?" I let out a soft, mocking laugh. "I built my catering business on hard-earned savings, dollar by dollar, while you spent your days drinking champagne and sneering at the working class. You want a loan? No. You will do what you told me to do, Victoria."
I leaned in closer. "Get on your knees, and clean up your own mess. Because from this day forward, any company that does business with the Kensington family will be blacklisted by the Eldorian Sovereign Fund. You will not find work, you will not find credit, and you will not find mercy."
"You... you monster!" Victoria hissed, her desperation suddenly turning into a venomous, ugly rage. She stood up, her face twisted. "You're still just a filthy, ungrateful orphan! Preston was right about you! You don't deserve that crown!"
"Remove her," I told Victor, not even raising my voice.
Victor grabbed Victoria by the arms, dragging her screaming and thrashing out of the office. Her curses echoed down the hallway until the heavy doors slammed shut, bringing back the peaceful silence of the room.
I sat back, taking a deep breath. It felt good. It felt incredibly good.
May you like
But as I looked out the window at the bustling streets of Boston, a strange, uneasy feeling settled in my gut. Victoria had mentioned Preston. She said he was falling apart, furious, and drinking.
A cornered animal is always the most dangerous. And Preston Kensington was a man who had never been told 'no' in his entire life.
