Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen
DEV
I stood on stage, watching her being pulled away by palace security, trying to process what had just happened.
Princess Aanya had just destroyed herself.
For me. For my research. For the truth.
She'd validated everything. Called her own family's institution wrong. Admitted complicity. Torn up the palace talking points on camera.
She'd thrown away her entire life.
To tell the truth I'd spent three years proving.
The room was still chaos. Journalists surrounding me, shouting questions. Rosa trying to maintain order. Community members crying, hugging, processing what they'd just witnessed.
"Dr. Marchetti! Did you know she was going to say that?"
"Dr. Marchetti! What's your response to the princess's statement?"
"Dr. Marchetti! Are you working together?"
I couldn't speak. Couldn't think.
All I could see was her face. The tears streaming down. The way her voice broke when she talked about my father. The fierce certainty when she'd ripped up those documents.
That wasn't performance.
That was real.
Rosa rescued me, pulled me backstage while volunteers managed the crowd.
"Dev. Breathe. You're in shock."
"She... she just..."
"She committed professional suicide on live television to validate your research. Yeah. I saw it too."
My phone was exploding. Texts, calls, emails. Professor Williams. Giulia. Marco. Journalists. Random numbers I didn't recognize.
One stood out. Unknown number: Dr. Marchetti, this is James Thornton. I was Princess Aanya's private secretary until approximately ten minutes ago. She wanted me to tell you: she meant every word. What happens to her now is not your responsibility. But she wanted you to know the truth mattered more.
I stared at the message.
She'd sent her secretary, probably moments after being dragged out, to make sure I knew she wasn't acting on palace orders. That she'd chosen this.
Chosen to tell the truth.
Chosen to lose everything.
For what? For justice? For my father? For me?
"What do I do?" I asked Rosa.
"Right now? You go out there and finish this forum. Let the families share their stories. Answer questions. Do the work you came here to do. The princess gave you the opening you needed. Don't waste it."
She was right.
I went back on stage. Spent the next two hours listening to testimony from displaced families. Answering technical questions about my research. Deflecting questions about Princess Aanya because I honestly didn't know what to say.
The Guardian reporter cornered me afterward. "Dr. Marchetti, there's speculation that you and Princess Aanya have been working together. Coordinating this response. Can you comment?"
"No. We've never spoken. I had no idea what she was going to say."
"But you must have some reaction to her statement?"
I thought about it. About what she'd risked. What she'd lost. What it must have cost to stand up there and betray her entire family, her entire institution, everything she'd ever known.
"I think," I said carefully, "she showed more courage in ten minutes than most people show in a lifetime. And I think my father would have respected that."
By the time I got home, it was past midnight. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Still processing.
Mum was waiting up, watching the news coverage on our small TV. The footage of Aanya ripping up the palace documents was playing on loop on every channel.
"È pazza," Mum said. She's crazy. But she was smiling slightly. "Also very brave."
"They're saying she's been stripped of her title. Removed from succession. Cut off from royal support."
"And what do you think of this?"
"I think she threw away everything to tell the truth about Dad."
"No," Mum corrected. "She threw away everything to tell the truth. Your father was part of that truth. But she didn't do this for him, Devlin. She did it for herself. To be able to live with herself."
I thought about that. About Aanya's face when she'd said "I'm ashamed." About the tears. About the fierce certainty.
"What do I do now?" I asked.
"Now you sleep. Tomorrow you deal with whatever comes next. But tonight, you let yourself feel what you accomplished. You told the truth. She told the truth. Together, you made people listen."
I lay on the sofa bed, exhausted but unable to sleep, thinking about everything that had happened.
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number: This is Priya. Lady Priya Ashworth. Aanya's friend. She can't contact you directly right now, palace monitoring everything. But she wanted you to know she's all right. Staying with me. No regrets. She said to tell you: thank you for showing her what courage looks like.
I read the message three times.
Typed back: Tell her she showed me what it looks like too.
Stared at my phone for a long time after sending it.
Wondering what happened next.
Wondering if I'd ever see her again.
Wondering if the woman who'd destroyed her life to validate my research understood that she'd just changed mine too.