I tear open the envelope and pull out the letter. My eyes skim over the words quickly.
My allowance has been approved.
A substantial amount, meant to cover my personal needs.
The palace will still provide for my everyday expenses; feeding, clothing, healthcare.
I glance at the sum stated for my monthly allowance and scoff.
A few months ago, this would have thrilled me. It would have been a comfort, a privilege.
But not now.
Not when my salary is almost the same.
Not when I've worked hard to stand on my own two feet.
I fold the letter with a sharp flick of my wrist and shove it back into the envelope.
I don't need it.
Not anymore.
I will not accept it.
"I don't need it," I say firmly, standing in Cassian's living room.
His eyes narrow slightly as I drop the envelope onto his coffee table.
"I won't accept it. It's rather too late."
Cassian stares at me in disbelief. His dark eyes scan my face as if searching for a sign that I'm joking.
"Why not?" he asks, settling back into his leather settee, the one covered with leopard skin.
His posture is relaxed, but his gaze is sharp; watching and calculating.
He's dressed in jogger pants and a tank top, and for a brief second, my eyes betray me. I notice how well-toned his arms are, the strength in his build.
Focus, Celeste.
Cassian notices my hesitation and smirks. "Celeste, why are you being so stubborn?"
My eyes snap back to his. "Stubborn? Is that how you see it?"
His smirk fades.
"This would have meant a lot to me a few months ago," I continue. "But not now. Not when I have a job that pays me just as much. I'm good."
His brow lifts slightly. "You make that much in your job?"
"Yes," I say without hesitation.
He leans forward slightly, his interest piqued. "Doing exactly what?"
I scoff. "Are you serious right now? You suddenly care about what your wife does for a living, after three months?"
He exhales and looks away, and for the first time, I see a flicker of guilt cross his face.
"If you went out of your way to secure this allowance for me, I appreciate it," I say, my tone softer but firm. "But sincerely, it's too late. I love my job, and I won't quit. I don't care what the council or the entire palace has to say about it."
I turn around and walk out, my steps steady, my resolve unshaken.
Straight to my chambers.
***
The morning rush is just settling when the glass doors of the office swing open, and a mature woman walks in. She's tall, poised, and draped in an elegant cream-colored dress. Her sharp eyes scan the office before they land on me.
She stops abruptly.
Then, she whistles.
"Princess Celeste Lucien?!"
My entire body stiffens.
Nobody at work calls me that. Here, I'm just Celeste.
I school my features into polite professionalism. "Hello, Ma'am. Good morning. How can I help you?"
She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she peers at me for an eternity, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
What does she want?
"Take a seat, Ma'am," I say, gesturing to a chair.
She lowers herself into it gracefully, but her gaze remains fixed on me, assessing.
"You work?" she finally asks, her voice laced with disbelief.
I don't respond. I have no idea who she is, but she clearly knows too much.
"How is Prince Cassian?" she asks suddenly. "I was at your wedding."
My fingers tighten around the pen I'm holding. "Oh really?"
She smiles. "Yes! It was quite the event. The grand halls, the foreign dignitaries, the …"
I don't need a recap. That day isn't one I care to revisit.
She finally introduces herself. "I'm Madam Jessy, an old friend of the Queen."
I freeze for a fraction of a second. The Queen.
Now, I really don't trust her.
She watches my expression closely. "I must admit, I didn't trust it when the Queen picked you for Cassian." She leans in, her voice lowering. "I know her well, she's a manipulative hag."
I say nothing, keeping my expression neutral.
She sighs dramatically. "And now I see they let you work? What a disgrace! The Lucian royal family has enough money to feed the whole of Malic and another land altogether! Why are you here?"
I inhale sharply, reminding myself that I'm in a professional setting. "Ma'am, this is an office. How can I assist you today?"
She exhales, seemingly unimpressed with my ability to dodge the conversation.
Then, she leans back and says, "I need to write my WILL."
I nod, instantly shifting into work mode. "Of course. I can help with that."
She slides a small notepad from her purse and scribbles down an address. "We'll sit and do it in a more comfortable setting. My home."
I hesitate for only a second before taking the note. "Agreed."
As she leaves, I feel it in my gut, this woman is going to be trouble.
***
Madam Jessy's house is a masterpiece of wealth; polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and velvet curtains that probably cost more than my entire year salary. Yet, the most overwhelming thing in this house isn't the luxury.
It's her mouth.
Seated on the softest, cosiest sofa in her lounge, I hold my notepad and pen, nodding as she talks. And talks. And talks.
Half of her words are about who gets what - her children, nieces, nephews, even an old friend who "deserves something nice." The other half?
The royal family.
"My dear, that palace is a cage," she sighs dramatically, swirling the tea in her cup. "King Lucien? He lets that woman run his life. Just like she's doing with Cassian now."
I pause mid-writing.
She shakes her head in frustration. "A real king should rule his home, not let his wife do it." She clicks her tongue. "But the Queen? She's always been that way. Power-hungry."
I stay silent. This is dangerous gossip.
She leans forward, lowering her voice. "It's good you're standing on your own two feet, Celeste. Keep it up." Then, she gives me a small, knowing smile. "If you ever need anything, I'm here."
I exhale, offering a polite nod. "Thank you, Madam Jessy."
With that, I finish writing her WILL, ensuring every detail is recorded perfectly. She transfers my payment without hesitation.
I don't even check it.
I just thank her, leave, and head home.
After a long shower, I sit on my bed, pulling my phone closer. Only then do I remember the payment.
I open my banking app.
One glance. One number.
I faint.