(Capital Kingdom – Sinclair Mansion)
Leticia stormed through the grand entrance of the Sinclair mansion, her cheeks flushed with a furious blend of rage and humiliation.
"Urrgh..." she growled, yanking off her wide-brimmed hat and hurling it to the marble floor. Behind her, two guards stumbled through the doorway, arms full of shopping bags, trying to keep up with her furious pace as she stomped up the staircase.
A few maids approached, eyes wide, and whispered,
"What happened?"
One of the guards sighed.
"A spectacle. One that's going to hang over her like a storm cloud for days."
He glanced toward the stairs.
"Brace yourselves. The fury won't simmer down anytime soon—and as usual, we'll be the ones paying for it."
Another maid shook her head grimly.
"Then it's about to get worse."
---
Upstairs.
Leticia slammed open the bedroom doors, her fury still boiling from the public humiliation she'd just endured.
Only to be met with a fresh horror.
There, tangled in the silk sheets of her marital bed, was a naked red-haired woman—vigorously pushing and moaning against her husband shamelessly.
Leticia froze.
Then her eyes blazed.
If the market incident had lit the fuse, this was the detonation.
A nuclear explosion.
"Aaron!!!" she screamed, her voice shaking the walls.
"You son of a bitch!"
She lunged.
Leticia grabbed the red-haired woman by the hair, yanked her off the bed, and slammed her to the floor with a vicious kick to the stomach.
"Aaaah!!" the woman shrieked, curling into herself in pain.
"Leticia!! You crazy bitch—stop that!" Aaron shouted, lunging forward to restrain her as she kicked the naked woman again, fury radiating from every movement.
But Leticia turned on him instead—her hand flying.
SLAP. SLAP.
Two sharp strikes across his face.
Then she spun toward the bedside table, yanked open the drawer, and ripped out a sleek black pistol.
She aimed it straight at Aaron's chest.
"Oh, I told you!" she screamed, voice shaking with rage.
"I told you—if you ever fucked another whore, I'd kill you, you son of a bitch!"
Aaron's eyes flared, his own fury igniting.
"Put the gun down, Leticia!" he barked.
"You and I both know this is a marriage of convenience! What the fuck is your problem? We got into this for power, not some stupid love story! So come to your fucking senses and put that gun down!"
BANG!
"Aaah!"
The red-haired woman screamed as a bullet tore into her hip. She collapsed mid-crawl as she was trying to escape, blood gushing from the wound, her hands slipping in the growing pool beneath her.
Aaron stared at Leticia—equal parts horror and fury in his eyes.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he roared.
BANG!
"Aaah!" the woman shrieked again as another bullet slammed into her shoulder blade.
Aaron turned back to Leticia.
Her face was blank.
Emotionless.
A porcelain mask of cold fury.
"You crazy bit—" he started.
"Say it. Call me crazy. One. More. Time." Growled Leticia as she stepped a bit closer and looked Aaron dead in the eyes.
She raised the gun again, steady and unflinching.
"The next bullet goes in that bitch's head. And the one after that? Right between your eyes."
She took another step closer.
"Don't you dare fuck with me, Aaron. You're nothing but a big-balled pussy. And without me? You're NOTHING!"
Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"Even if I killed you right now, no one would even remember you. You're only in power because of me. You're the great Duke of Florence because I made you. And your pathetic little fief? It thrives because my Florence feeds it."
She leaned in, her breath hot against his cheek.
"So tell me, darling—what happens if I pull the plug? What happens if I throw my support behind someone else? Someone with the potential to bury you and your precious bloodline?"
She raised the gun and slapped him across the face with it—once, twice—then aimed it at his forehead.
"So think about it. Good. And. Careful. Next time you even think about fucking with me like this again."
She smiled, slow and cruel.
"Mmm... darling."
Then she grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back, and kissed him—hard, rough, punishing.
She pulled away, lips curled in disgust.
"Now get dressed. And get this piece of garbage out of my bedroom."
Her gaze dropped to the red-haired woman, still writhing in agony on the floor.
"This mess better be cleaned up by the time I return."
Leticia unloaded the gun with a practiced flick, pocketed the bullet casing, and tossed the weapon onto the bed.
Then she turned on her heel and walked out, heels clicking like gunshots on the marble floor.
As Leticia descended the staircase, the maids and guards gathered below—who had clearly been eavesdropping on the chaos upstairs—immediately scattered like startled birds.
She saw them.
She didn't care.
Her voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"Daisy!"
A maid rushed to her side, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Y-yes, my Lady?"
Leticia inhaled deeply, her tone cool and deliberate.
"Prepare me a hot, bubbling bath in the guest room. And lay out something bold. Exquisite. I want an outfit that screams power—because today, I feel fiery. And I intend to remind myself, and everyone else, that I am the boss. The controller of my life. No one gets their way with me. Not anymore."
As she turned and strode toward the guest room, her thoughts burned hotter than the bath she'd requested:
'Especially you, bitch. You're going to pay for humiliating me—today, and every other time you dared to make me feel small. You think you can become the queen of me? Think again. Leticia is queen of herself. And no one—no smug, cunning little bitch—will ever rule her. Just wait. Just watch. You'll see what I do to you. You'll see.'
She walked on, heels clicking like war drums, her fury wrapped in silk and steel.
.....
Meanwhile
Chaos reigned at the palace.
Servants were being interrogated. Royal guards barked orders. Forensic officers clustered around the corpse sprawled near the Crown Prince's study.
Then—like a storm breaking through the gates—Daniel arrived.
The crowd parted instinctively, no one daring to block his path.
A royal guard stepped forward and saluted crisply.
"Greetings to the future Grand Sun, fierce protector and stronghold of the kingdom. Greetings to the Crown Prince."
Daniel gave a curt nod.
"Sam. What's the situation?"
He strode toward the body, where the forensic team immediately paused their work and bowed in reverence.
Sam stepped beside him.
"It appears the servant fell from your study window, Your Highness. Broke his neck on impact. Surveillance shows him entering the room to clean. He opened the window, stepped closer... and just lost his balance and fell. No signs of foul play were found."
Daniel crouched beside the corpse, eyes scanning every detail.
No bullet wounds. No bruises. No signs of a struggle.
The man's face was turned to the side, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
But then—
Daniel narrowed his eyes.
A faint, black rash marked the side of the servant's neck.
Whispers began to ripple through the gathered staff.
"I told you that room was cursed."
"The man must have cursed at the prince and his folly caught up to him as the demons in there decided to take his soul."
"I heard there are some strange sounds which you hear in the room and if say anything about it, you will disappear or worse end up like him."
The rumors about his study offices being cursed had started months ago—after a maid Daniel had scolded for snooping was found dead in his study the next morning.
Even though the cause of death was discovered as Asma which attacked her due to strong perfume she inhaled and she couldn't control it as she left her inhaler behind in her room.
The rumours still spread like wild fire and it looks like they still haven't died down.
Because now, they were roaring again.
Daniel exhaled sharply and stood.
"Keep me updated. I want the autopsy report immediately."
"Yes, Your Highness," the team replied in unison.
He turned to leave.
Paused.
Then spun back toward the corpse.
He knelt again, gently turned the man's face—
And froze.
Recognition struck like a whip.
A memory surged forward:
"It... it was her... the lady in pink. The one from the masquerade ball... the beautiful, mysterious lady in pink! Forgive me, Your Highness... I should've spoken sooner..."
It was him.
The servant who had confessed to seeing Ariel—cloaked in pink—slipping into a restroom cubicle with a gun holster the night someone broke into the Royal Archives.
Another memory flashed:
"The fool took the bait. Now we kill two birds with one stone. Be ready for the news."
Ariel, smirking as she typed: "Good job, BK. See you when you see me."
"Affirmative, Boss. See you when you see me."
"Your Highness—"
Blake arrived, panting since he came running from the palace gate to the scene, since taxis were not allowed in the palace.
"You really need to stop leaving me behind. I'm your bodyguard, remember—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Daniel was staring at the corpse, crimson eyes burning with intensity.
Blake followed his gaze.
His face paled.
"Fuck..." he whispered.
Without a word, Daniel turned and stormed into the palace.
Blake watched him disappear, then looked back at the dead servant.
He sighed.
"This is bad."
.....
Daniel was making his way toward his study when a figure stepped into his path.
It was his grand-uncle—Lord Archford Devonte, his grandfather's brother.
The elder noble gave a slight bow.
"Greetings, grand-nephew."
Daniel returned the gesture.
"Greetings, Grand-Uncle. What brings you to the palace today?"
"Business as usual," Archford replied smoothly.
"Though I must say, I didn't expect to be welcomed by such... a commotion."
Daniel's expression remained composed.
"Don't worry, Grand-Uncle. Everything is under control. I'll get to the bottom of it."
"I'm sure you will," Archford said, his tone unreadable.
A group of servants entered the hallway, bowed quickly, and cast nervous glances at Daniel before scurrying away.
Archford watched them go.
"I see the rumors about your study being cursed are still swirling."
Daniel snorted.
"Were they ever gone? I'm the beast of this palace, remember? The whispers cling to me like a plague—until someone finally slays me and drags my corpse from these halls."
Archford chuckled, low and dry.
"Well, too bad for them. They'll have to do better than this to rid themselves of their nightmare."
Then his smile faded.
His voice dropped.
"Walk with me."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and exited the hallway, leading Daniel into a long, open corridor that overlooked the sprawling palace maze—its hedges stretching like green veins toward the horizon.
Daniel saw the urgency in his steps and he knew that something was up and it was not good.