Chapter 14 Chapter fourteen
AANYA
My hands were shaking.
Every instinct screamed to run. To read the palace talking points. To perform sympathy without admission of fault. To protect the institution.
But I looked at Dev Marchetti standing beside me. This man who'd lost his father. Who'd worked three jobs while researching the truth. Who'd helped me when I fell despite every reason not to.
And I looked at the faces in the crowd. Real people. Real families. Real harm.
I thought about my mother's slap. My father's letter in my bag. The title I was about to lose.
And I spoke.
"My name is Aanya Windsor. Until very recently, I was Her Royal Highness Princess Aanya of Wales, fourth in line to the throne."
Gasps through the crowd. The handlers looking like they wanted to physically remove me from stage.
"I'm here tonight because I've spent the past week reading Dr. Marchetti's research. All of it. Every page. Every citation. Every piece of evidence."
I looked at Dev. His face was shocked. Uncertain.
"And I need to tell you something," I continued. "He's right. About everything."
The room exploded.
Cameras flashing. Journalists shouting questions. Palace security moving toward the stage.
I kept speaking, louder.
"Crown Estate development practices have systematically displaced working-class families. They have concentrated environmental pollution in neighborhoods with the least political power. They have prioritized profit over people's lives. And yes, as Dr. Marchetti proved, they made decisions that led to deaths. Including Lorenzo Marchetti's. Deaths that could have been prevented."
Sir Michael appeared at the edge of the stage, his face murderous. I ignored him.
"I came here tonight with palace-approved talking points. Carefully worded responses designed to express concern without admitting fault. To perform empathy without promising change. To protect the institution regardless of the harm it's caused."
I pulled the briefing documents from my bag. Held them up.
"These are those talking points. Here's what I'm supposed to say."
I ripped them in half.
Let the pieces fall to the stage floor.
"I'm not reading them. I'm not performing concern. I'm telling you the truth: my family's institution has caused real harm to real people for real profit. And I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed of what we've done. I'm ashamed that it took me twenty-seven years to actually look at the evidence. I'm ashamed that I've been complicit by never questioning, never challenging, never demanding accountability."
Tears were streaming down my face now. Didn't matter. This wasn't about looking composed.
"Dr. Marchetti asked what I'm going to do about it. Honestly? I don't have institutional power to change Crown Estate policy. As of tomorrow morning, I probably won't have any royal position at all. But what I can do is use whatever platform I have left to demand accountability. To support his research. To tell everyone who will listen that he's right and the institution I represented is wrong."
I looked at Dev. He was staring at me like he'd never seen me before.
Maybe he hadn't. Maybe no one had.
"Lorenzo Marchetti deserved better," I said. "He deserved to come home to his family that night. He deserved to see his son become Dr. Marchetti. He deserved to grow old and meet grandchildren and live the life he'd built in this country. And he didn't get that because people with power decided his safety wasn't worth forty-two thousand pounds."
My voice broke.
"I can't bring him back. I can't undo the harm Crown Estate has caused. But I can tell the truth. I can validate Dr. Marchetti's evidence. I can use my voice, while I still have it, to say loudly and clearly: this is wrong. This was always wrong. And anyone who defends it, anyone who prioritizes institutional protection over people's lives, is complicit in that wrong."
I looked at the cameras.
"That includes my family. That includes the monarchy. That includes me."
Sir Michael was on stage now, trying to pull me away. I shook him off.
"One more thing," I said. "To the families here tonight who've been displaced. Who've lost homes, communities, stability. I know an apology doesn't fix anything. But I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. You deserved better. You still deserve better. And I hope, even though I can't force change myself, that speaking truth creates pressure that eventually does force change."
I stepped back from the microphone.
The room erupted into chaos.
Journalists shouting questions. Palace security surrounding me. Handlers trying to escort me out.
But I looked at Dev.
He was staring at me, eyes wide, face unreadable.
I wanted to say something. Wanted to thank him. Wanted to explain that he'd shown me the truth and I couldn't look away from it.
But security was pulling me toward the exit. Sir Michael hissing threats about consequences, lawsuits, constitutional crises.
I looked back once.
Dev was still standing on stage, watching me being pulled away.
Our eyes met.
And for just a second, something passed between us. Recognition. Understanding.
Maybe something more.
Then I was out the door, into the car, palace handlers surrounding me, phones ringing constantly, the world I'd known for twenty-seven years crumbling around me.
But I'd told the truth.
Finally, completely, publicly.
And whatever came next, at least I'd done that.