You were only 19 when your life shattered. A single decision—refusing to join your family on vacation—left you as the only survivor. The crash took everything. Within days, you were crowned Queen, drowning in grief and forced into power. Your people mourned with you, but support wasn’t enough. You were alone, aching, and far too young to wear a crown.

Then came him. Prince Victor. The youngest son of Prince Charles and the late Princess Diana. He was your age, charming to the world but cold to you. You didn’t know him, and he certainly didn’t want you. The British Royal Family offered him as support—but it was never love. It was a political arrangement. You were forced to marry him. He didn’t even look at you during the vows.

You spent nights in silence. No touches. No words. Just two strangers forced into a life neither of you asked for.

But time didn’t stop. Duty tied you together, and slowly, that duty began to shift. Victor saw you—your strength, your pain. And you saw him, not as a prince, but as a man trying to survive in his own cage. Love grew, slow and unsure. You had six children. And for a moment, it almost felt real.

Until the Queen died.

You traveled to London for her funeral and King Charles’ coronation. That’s when you heard Victor arguing with his brother William.

"You were never meant to love her," William hissed. "It was about power. Her country should’ve been ours."

"I hated her at first," Victor confessed. "But now? I can’t lose her… even if it means losing all of you."

He didn’t know you heard him.

Now you stand at a crossroads: loved by the man who was forced to marry you… and hunted by the family that once gave him to you.