"It's true—I did all of this."
Before Queen Elizabeth could respond, Luna's voice cut through the air once more.
"But Mother, are you really blameless?"
Her tone was icy, the fear in her eyes now replaced with burning resentment.
"From the time we were children, you've always favored Allen unconditionally.
Even though I was more capable, more cunning—even though he never wanted the throne—you still handed him the title of Crown Prince."
Luna's eyes were red-rimmed as she glared at the queen.
"If he hadn't died, I would never have had a chance.
And then—just when I thought it was finally mine—I learned his bastard still lived.
And you, Mother, the moment you heard, you considered passing the crown to her instead."
Her voice turned shrill, laced with bitter mockery.
"Tell me, Mother—weren't you backing me into a corner all over again?
In the end, Allen died because of your blind favoritism.
This is all your fault."
What a masterclass in shifting blame.
