Chapter 16 Chapter sixteen
AANYA
I woke on Priya's sofa to my phone vibrating relentlessly.
Seventy-three missed calls. Two hundred and forty-six text messages. Fourteen voicemails.
And one email from my father with the subject line: "Final Arrangements."
I opened it with shaking hands.
Aanya.
Effective immediately, you are removed from all official royal duties. Your HRH title is rescinded. You are no longer in the line of succession. Access to Kensington Palace apartments will be terminated by end of week. All royal accounts, including trust fund, are frozen pending legal review of your breach of confidentiality agreements.
Your mother and I believe you have made a catastrophic error in judgment. However, you remain our daughter. If you wish to apologize publicly and retract your statements, we will discuss reinstatement.
Otherwise, palace counsel will be in touch regarding the return of Crown property in your possession.
Edward.
Not "Papa." Not "Love." Just Edward.
I read it three times. Then deleted it.
Priya appeared with tea, looking like she hadn't slept either. "How bad?"
"I'm officially nobody. No title, no succession, no money, no home. Palace wants their property back by Friday."
"Property meaning what?"
"Everything. Jewelry, clothes, probably the laptop. Anything purchased with royal funds, which is basically everything I own."
Priya sat beside me. "You can stay here as long as you need. I mean it."
"I can't impose..."
"You literally gave up a throne to tell the truth. I think I can give you a sofa." She handed me the tea. "Also, you're all over the news. Every channel. The footage of you ripping up those documents is everywhere. They're calling it the biggest royal scandal since..."
"Since my uncle's divorce."
"Bigger, actually. He wanted to marry someone inappropriate. You called the monarchy institutionally corrupt on live television."
I pulled up the news on my phone. She was right. Every outlet. International coverage.
BBC: "Princess Renounces Title, Validates Crown Estate Allegations"
Guardian: "Royal Rebellion: Aanya Windsor's Truth-Telling Moment"
Times: "Constitutional Crisis as Princess Admits Institutional Wrongdoing"
Daily Mail: "Traitor Princess: Aanya's Betrayal"
The Daily Mail article was particularly vicious. Photos of me crying on stage. Speculation about mental breakdown. Questions about whether I'd been radicalized by "extremist activists." Suggestions that I was having an affair with Dev Marchetti.
That last one made me laugh despite everything. We'd never even spoken.
Though the photo from the gala kept appearing. Me in his arms, our faces close, the moment frozen. The caption: "Did Romance Spark Royal Rebellion?"
"They think we're together," I said.
"The internet has decided you're star-crossed lovers fighting the establishment. There are already fan accounts. Hashtags. Someone made a playlist."
"We've met once. For thirty seconds. While I was falling."
"Yeah, well, you destroyed your life to validate his research, he called you the bravest person he's ever seen, and the way you looked at each other on that stage..." Priya showed me a screenshot. The moment right before I left. Dev and me, eyes locked. "That's not nothing, Aanya."
I studied the photo. The way he was looking at me. Shocked, yes. But also something else. Recognition. Understanding.
Maybe not nothing.
My phone rang. Unknown number. I answered.
"Miss Windsor?" Formal voice. Male. "This is Gerald Patterson from Chamberlain & Cross solicitors. We represent the Crown Estate. I'm calling to inform you that we're considering legal action regarding your statements last night. Several of your claims could be considered defamatory, and we have concerns about how you obtained certain information that may be subject to confidentiality agreements."
"Everything I said was true. Dr. Marchetti documented all of it."
"Dr. Marchetti's research is one matter. Your public statements as a former royal representative create different legal considerations. We'll be in touch with formal notification of our intentions. In the meantime, we strongly advise you to refrain from further public comment."
He hung up.
"Crown Estate lawyers," I told Priya. "They're threatening to sue me for defamation."
"Can they do that?"
"I don't know. I don't have lawyers anymore. I don't have anything."
The enormity of it hit me suddenly. Twenty-seven years old. No job. No qualifications except a History of Art degree and experience doing royal engagements. No references I could use. No money except whatever I'd had in my personal account, which was maybe three thousand pounds.
I'd never paid rent. Never had a job interview. Never filled out a tax return. Never done anything normal people did to survive.
How was I supposed to live?
Priya must have seen the panic on my face. "Hey. Breathe. We'll figure this out. One step at a time."
"I don't know how to do anything, Priya. I can't type properly. I've never used public transport alone. I don't know how much things cost. I'm completely useless outside a palace."
"You're not useless. You're smart, you're educated, you speak five languages, you have incredible public speaking skills..."
"All for a job that no longer exists."
"So we find you a new job. Something that uses your skills. Education work, maybe? Nonprofit sector? You've got years of experience with literacy programs."
"Who's going to hire the princess who betrayed her family?"
"Someone who values integrity over institutional loyalty. Someone who watched you on that stage and saw courage instead of betrayal." Priya squeezed my hand. "This isn't over, Aanya. It's just different."
Wednesday morning, I went back to Kensington Palace to collect my things.
Security let me through, but the atmosphere was arctic. Staff who'd known me since childhood looked away. My former private secretary wouldn't make eye contact.
I had until Friday to remove personal items. Everything else belonged to the Crown.
My apartments looked the same. Beautiful, impersonal, carefully curated by palace staff to reflect appropriate royal taste. I'd lived here for nine years and it had never felt like home.
Now it just felt like a very expensive hotel I was being evicted from.
I started in the wardrobe. Most of the clothes were purchased with royal funds for official engagements. Technically Crown property. I left them.
Took only what I'd bought with my small personal allowance. Three pairs of jeans. Some jumpers. Basic items.
The jewelry was harder. Some pieces were family heirlooms, clearly not mine to take. Others had been gifts from my parents. Those felt personal, but were they legally mine?
I left them all. Didn't want the fight.
Found Dev's waistcoat still hanging there. The one he'd wrapped around me at the gala. The one I'd kept like some ridiculous token.
I folded it carefully, put it in my bag.
My laptop was my own, purchased before I'd become a working royal. I packed it.
Books. Photos. A few pieces of art I'd bought myself. My Cambridge degree certificate.
By the time I finished, everything I owned fit in three boxes.
Twenty-seven years reduced to three boxes.
I was loading them into Priya's car when my mother appeared.
We hadn't spoken since she'd slapped me Saturday morning. Hadn't seen each other since I'd walked on that stage Tuesday night.