Broken Promise, Restored Affinity

Jonathan stepped forward, his arms wrapping around me as he whispered in my ear, "Lana, she will only have a name, I promise. I only have you in my heart!" His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I was just hindered by her identity, you know... The dignity of the royal family cannot be compromised."

His warm breath grazed my ear, yet despite his words of comfort, my body trembled. Deep down, I knew he was right according to the rules of this world. To others, he was a loyal husband, a man caught in an unfortunate circumstance. He had indulged me, given me everything within his power. If I demanded more, I’d be seen as unreasonable—greedy, even.

***

Half a month later, Princess Hilton, fresh from her return to the court, hosted an Apricot Blossom Banquet, inviting all the noblewomen. The invitation in my hand was a clear message: I had to attend, even though I knew this was no ordinary gathering. It was a grand Banquet, a trap disguised as hospitality.

At the banquet, the air buzzed with sycophantic praises for the princess. Each woman seized the chance to ingratiate herself, using me as a pawn in their game of flattery.

"Madam Bridgerton, you should be grateful for the princess's kindness. If it were anyone else, you’d be divorced by now!" one of the women said smugly.

"Indeed! How fortunate you are to call the princess your sister," another added, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

They continued, relentless in their jabs. "Soon, the princess and her husband will live in the royal mansion and Madam Bridgerton will have plenty of free time."

Their words felt like sharp knives, each one aiming to diminish my worth. They spoke as though I was an afterthought, as if I no longer belonged in my own life.

"We’ve been so kind to remind her," someone chimed in. "Why hasn’t Madam Bridgerton expressed her gratitude?"

The whispers grew louder. "How can she be so at ease as the madam of the Bridgerton Family? Five years of marriage and still no child! Not only can she not bear a child, but she also fails to care for her husband properly..."

The insults came one after another, each more cutting than the last. I became the center of their scorn, a target for all to criticize. And Princess Hilton, sitting there with an air of hesitancy, seemed to relish in my humiliation. Her enjoyment was thinly veiled behind her delicate demeanor.

Two of her maids approached me, their faces cold and unfeeling. One of them pressed me down, forcing me to kneel before the princess. I stood tall, my pride refusing to give way. I wouldn't kneel.

The princess, surprised by my defiance, quickly put on a different face. She rose to her feet and hurried over, making a show of helping me up. "What are you doing?" she asked, feigning concern. "Madam Bridgerton entered the household before me and it’s I who should offer tea to her." She smiled, but there was something almost mocking in the gesture.

She grabbed a teacup, pressing it into my hand. The hot liquid spilled over, scalding my skin. Instinctively, I jerked my hand away and the teacup fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

For a moment, the room fell silent. Every eye turned toward me, the tension thick enough to suffocate.

"Lana! What are you doing?" Jonathan's voice boomed across the room, breaking the stillness. He stepped forward, his expression stern. "My humble wife behaved inappropriately and offended the princess. I hope Your Highness will forgive her." His tone was measured, but it was clear he was cleaning up my mess, positioning himself as the mediator.

He turned to me, his voice more commanding this time. "Kneel down and apologize to the princess."

"Kneel down, quickly!" someone in the crowd shouted, echoing his demand.

Jonathan reached out, gripping my arm firmly. His strength was overwhelming and despite my efforts, I couldn’t resist. He pulled me down, forcing me to kneel. The impact of my knees hitting the floor sent a sharp pain through my body and I felt something inside me shatter—whether it was the teacup or my pride, I couldn't tell.