Chapter Ninety-Seven

Chapter Ninety-Seven
Rex stops pacing, turning sharply toward me. "Diego thrives on scandal. He doesn't plan long games; he ignites fires and watches them burn. If he planted this, his purpose is simple: to discredit me. To paint me as the son of a disgraced king whose crown rests on shaky ground. He has always wanted the throne returned to him. Imagine what he could do if whispers of an illicit abdication began to spread."
I bite my lip, thinking of Diego's restless eyes at the dinner table, his habit of slipping away to hushed conversations on his phone. "He would weaponize the truth, even if it meant destroying his own family's name."
Rex nods grimly. "Exactly. To Diego, chaos is not a consequence—it is the strategy."
He turns then, his expression shifting, more hesitant. "But my mother..."
I lean forward, listening.
"My mother has never sought to destroy. Her strength lies in preservation. If she placed it there, it was not to shame us—it was to warn us. To force me to see what I have chosen not to see." His voice falters, rare for him. "She lived through my father's reign. She knew his weaknesses better than anyone. If the abdication was entangled with an indiscretion, she might fear history repeating itself—through me."
A silence stretches between us, the weight of his words pressing down.
"So, if it is Diego," I say carefully, "we are pawns in his game to seize the throne. If it is your mother, then we are children being steered—pushed—to confront the shadow of your father's mistakes before they consume us."
Rex exhales, his hands tightening into fists. "And therein lies the danger. Both paths lead back to the same secret, Violet. The difference is whether it was given to us by a vulture circling above... or by a guardian who fears we are blind."
I feel a chill run down my spine. The document was no accident. Someone wanted us to stand at this very crossroads, torn between betrayal and protection.
"Then we must be careful," I whisper. "The truth is not only about what your father did. It's about why we were chosen to find it now."
Rex meets my gaze, his eyes hard. "And that answer, Violet, may decide not only who holds this crown—but who survives it."
Rex's words linger like a shadow, and I feel the weight of the choice pressing against my chest. The crown, survival—words that should not belong together, yet here they are, bound by a secret that refuses to stay buried.
Rex begins pacing again, but slower now, his movements deliberate, controlled. "We cannot act rashly. If Diego believes he has unsettled us, he will grow bolder. If my mother senses suspicion, she will retreat further into silence. We must watch before we strike."
I nod, though unease coils in my stomach. "So we investigate them both. Quietly. Without revealing what we already know."
His gaze flickers to me, sharp and intent. "Diego first. He is careless, and his vanity makes him leave trails. If he is behind this, we will catch him in the act. But if it is my mother..." Rex exhales, his voice low. "She is far more dangerous than Diego realizes. If she moves, it will be with precision. And she will not forgive betrayal lightly."
My fingers twist in my lap, the enormity of it tightening around me. "Do you want me to speak to her?"
His head snaps toward me. "No. Absolutely not."
"Rex—"
"You don't know her like I do. She has the gift of seeing straight through people. If she even suspects you are probing, she will find out what we hold. And once she does..." His jaw clenches. "She will control the truth before we can touch it."
I hesitate, lowering my voice. "But what if she left it for me to find, not you? Maybe she wants me to ask, Rex. Maybe she believes you won't."
His eyes search mine, conflicted, torn between caution and the possibility I might be right. "If that's true," he says slowly, "then she has placed you in the center of this game. Not me. Which means you are already exposed."
The thought chills me more than the silence of the abandoned room ever did.
"Then we must tread carefully," Rex says, his tone firm now, decisive. "Diego will be reckless. He will leave proof—letters, calls, meetings. I'll have his movements watched, discreetly. As for my mother... we wait. And if she wishes to reveal herself, she will. On her terms."
"And if she doesn't?" I whisper.
Rex meets my gaze with a grim steadiness. "Then you were never meant to survive this truth, Violet. And I will not allow that."

Rex drags a chair from the desk and sits opposite me, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. The dim light from the window carves his face into sharp planes; in this moment he looks less like a king and more like a strategist at war.
"We cannot stumble through this," he says quietly. "We need a plan. Rules. We cannot afford mistakes."
I nod, heart pounding. "Then let's build it."
He holds up a hand, counting each point on his fingers as he speaks. "First: we decide who we can trust. Not who we like, not who we hope—only who has no stake in the throne. Ben, perhaps. One of the older guards. Someone outside the palace staff entirely. Without an ally to move unseen, we're exposed."
"Someone who can watch without being watched," I murmur. "I know how to disappear into the background. People speak freely around me when they think I'm just the outsider bride-to-be."
Rex studies me. "That could work. You can slip into places I can't without drawing suspicion. Meanwhile, I'll have my aide track Diego's calls, his movements, his sudden disappearances from dinners. We'll cross-check his patterns. If he's the one, he's already careless enough to leave breadcrumbs."
I lean closer, lowering my voice. "And your mother?"
Rex's expression darkens. "With her, it's different. We don't hunt her—we wait. We note every room she enters, every person she summons. If she left that document for you, she will make the next move. When she does, we'll be ready."
A thin tension stretches between us like a drawn bowstring.
"Second," Rex continues, "we never speak of this in the open again. Not in the war room. Not in my chambers. Only here, or somewhere no one would expect—out in public, where surveillance is harder. And we keep what we know fragmented. If someone intercepts one of us, they cannot take the whole picture."
My throat tightens. "You're talking like this is war."
His gaze holds mine, unflinching. "It is. Just because there are no armies doesn't mean there aren't weapons. In this palace, secrets are sharper than swords."
I draw a shaky breath. "Then tell me the third rule."
Rex leans even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "No assumptions. If we find evidence against Diego, we confirm it twice before moving. If my mother shows her hand, we verify her intent before confronting her. We don't run toward the truth; we let it come to us and catch it when it does."
A beat passes before he straightens, his tone softening just slightly. "And finally, Violet... you're not to act alone. No sudden questions, no secret confrontations. If they set this trap for you, they're already watching. I won't have you standing there without me."
Something cold coils in my stomach at his words. "And if it's already too late?"
His jaw clenches. "Then I burn down the trap before it closes."
We sit in silence, the plan between us like a living thing—fragile, dangerous, necessary. Outside, the palace is quiet, but inside its walls the game has already begun.

The next evening, the palace hums with its usual rhythm—footsteps along marble floors, hushed voices drifting through gilded corridors—but to me it feels different, heavier. Every word, every glance seems sharpened with hidden meaning.
Rex and I sit at dinner with his family, the table glittering with silver and crystal. Diego lounges two seats down, his glass half-raised, his smile too casual. He jokes with a cousin about hunting, his laugh loud enough to cover the flick of his thumb across his phone under the table.
The next evening, the palace hums with its usual rhythm—footsteps along marble floors, hushed voices drifting through gilded corridors—but to me it feels different, heavier. Every word, every glance seems sharpened with hidden meaning.
Rex and I sit at dinner with his family, the table glittering with silver and crystal. Diego lounges two seats down, his glass half-raised, his smile too casual. He jokes with a cousin about hunting, his laugh loud enough to cover the flick of his thumb across his phone under the table.
I catch Rex's glance. The smallest flicker of his eyes tells me: watch him.
So I do.
The table is alive with laughter and chatter, but I let my voice slip just slightly above the noise, soft enough to seem unguarded, loud enough for Diego to hear.
"It's strange," I murmur, as though speaking to myself. "The servants in the east wing were whispering again... something about the abdication, something they weren't meant to say."
I don't look at him, but I see it in my periphery—the way Diego's hand freezes around his glass, the flick of his eyes toward me before he schools his expression back into nonchalance. He forces a laugh at something Rex's father says, but the crack is there.
Later, when I step into the courtyard for air, Diego follows.
"You really should be careful what you listen to, Violet," he says, lighting a cigarette, his tone laced with mockery. "The walls in this palace have teeth. Whispered words can bite."
I arch a brow. "And yet you followed me out here to repeat them."
He smirks. "If you want the truth, you don't ask the walls. You ask the ones who built them."
My heart pounds, but I keep my voice steady. "Then maybe I'll ask you someday."
Diego exhales a curl of smoke, eyes glinting. "Maybe you should." He flicks ash to the stones and disappears back into the hall.
A shadow stirs near the archway—Rex. He steps out, jaw tight. "He reacted."
"Yes," I whisper. "Which means he knows far more than he admits."
Rex's gaze hardens. "Then he's involved. And now he thinks you're playing into his hands. Let him. It will make him careless."