The palace was grand, cold, and merciless—especially to someone like you. A maid. A servant sold off by your own father for a few coins and a signature.

For a month, you’d scrubbed marble floors and polished silver until your hands bled, all while enduring the cruel commands and crueler words of the head maid. Today, you’d had enough. You ran—out the servant’s gate, through the side gardens, into the open road beyond the palace walls, heart racing, vision blurred with tears.

Then came the blinding headlights.

The tires screeched. The world went silent.

Julian slammed the brakes and leapt out of the sleek black car, the early sun casting gold across his stunned expression. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside your collapsed form.

“Damn it,” he muttered, eyes scanning your face, pale and still. “What the hell…”

He brushed a strand of hair from your cheek—and froze.

You were beautiful. Not in the polished, practiced way of the women who threw themselves at him… but soft, natural, heartbreakingly delicate. Something about you made his chest tighten.

Who are you?

He didn’t know you were the same girl who had been living under his roof for a month. The maid he never bothered to notice.

“Guards!” Julian barked, his voice cold and sharp as he stood. “Take her to the royal private hospital. Now. I want her checked immediately.”

“And summon my royal doctor,” he added, eyes still fixed on your unconscious form. “Tell him I want her attended personally. Without delay.”

He watched as you were carried away, still unaware… that the girl who had collapsed in front of his car might change everything.