Deviating from the original plot

Chapter ninety

"You've been out of sorts since the ball," her mother pressed, concern deepening. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Genevieve said, her tone clipped. "May I be excused?"

Before her mother could respond, the prince's voice cut through the room, smooth and deliberate. "I fear this may be my fault."

Genevieve's eyes widened, her heart lurching as she turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat.

"That's why," he continued, his gaze fixed on her with an unsettling intensity, "I intend to take responsibility."

The dining room went quiet, the clatter of cutlery and soft hum of chatter fading as every gaze fixed on the prince. Genevieve's heart pounded, her hands balling into fists beneath the tablecloth, her nails digging into her palms.

Her father leaned forward, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Your Highness, what exactly do you mean?" he asked, his tone eager.

The prince's smile sharpened, his eyes locked on Genevieve, unyielding. "After the ball, Lady Genevieve and I left together. In the heat of the evening, we... lost ourselves to the moment and spent the night together. As a man of honour, I wish to take responsibility by asking for her hand in marriage."

Genevieve's breath stopped, the air in the room turning to ice. Her vision tunnelled, the prince's words echoing in her skull like a death knell.

Her mother gasped, a hand fluttering to her chest, her face alight with a mix of shock and delight. "Oh, Genevieve! Is this true?" she asked, turning to her daughter with wide, hopeful eyes.

Genevieve's throat closed, her voice trapped behind a wall of panic. "I—" she started, her voice shaking, barely audible. "That's not what happened—"

"Now, now," the prince interrupted smoothly, his tone gentle but commanding, cutting her off before she could find the words. "There's no need for modesty, my lady. What happened was... natural, a moment of passion. I only wish to do right by you..." 

Her father's face broke into a broad grin, oblivious to the undercurrent of menace. "A marriage to the crown prince!" he exclaimed. "This is beyond our wildest dreams, Genevieve! What an honour!"

"An honour indeed," her mother echoed, her voice trembling with excitement. "We always knew you were destined for greatness, dear."

Genevieve's stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. She felt like a cornered animal, the room closing in around her. The prince's version of events was a lie—or was it? The gaps in her memory tormented her, leaving her unsure of what was true and what was his manipulation. Had she even consented to anything?

"I need air," she managed, her voice barely a whisper as she pushed back her chair, the scrape against the floor jarringly loud. She stood, her legs unsteady.

"Genevieve, are you unwell?" Her mother asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"Let me escort her to the garden," the prince said, rising smoothly from his seat. "A bit of fresh air will do her good."

"No," Genevieve said sharply, the word bursting out before she could stop it. Her parents blinked, startled, and the prince's smile tightened, just for a moment. "I mean... I'll go alone. I just need a moment."

Her father frowned, glancing between her and the prince. "Nonsense, dear. His Highness is being kind. Let him accompany you."

Genevieve's heart sank, but she nodded stiffly, avoiding the prince's outstretched arm as she moved toward the door, her steps hurried. He followed, his presence a shadow at her back, and as they stepped into the cool evening air of the garden.

The moment they were alone in the hallway, Genevieve spun to face him, her voice a low, quivering hiss of rage. "How dare you?" she spat. "You're lying. I don't know what happened that night, but I didn't—I would never—"

"Careful now," the prince murmured, his tone deceptively gentle. He stepped closer, looming over her, his presence forcing her to crane her neck to meet his piercing gaze. "How can you be so certain? You surrendered to me that night, Genevieve. We were intimate. I'm only doing what's honourable by offering you marriage."

"You didn't... I..." Her voice faltered, tears welling in her eyes as she stumbled back, her heart pounding with dread.

"We did," the prince said, his smile sharp and unyielding, a glint of menace in his eyes. "Keep denying it, and you'll only disgrace yourself. Accept my proposal, Genevieve, and you'll have it all—power, protection, a crown. Refuse, and I swear, I'll see to it that you're utterly ruined."

Her breath hitched, chest tightening as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her cheek — a gesture that made her stomach twist. "We should begin planning the wedding," he murmured. "You might already be carrying my heir. And I will not have my child born out of wedlock." Then he turned and left her there, trembling. She sank to the ground, her tears falling soundlessly as dread took hold of her heart.

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I am sorry everyone😭😭🙇🏽‍♂️🙇🏽‍♂️