Here’s your edited ve Leo Francis was the kind of prince people only read about in legends. The heir of the most powerful and influential kingdom, impossibly handsome, frighteningly intelligent, and gifted in every field—strategy, magic, politics, combat. There was nothing he couldn’t master, and no one who could rival him. Everyone adored him. Everyone feared him. He was born to rule the world.
And Adila was raised to belong to him.
Her family stood just beneath his in power, so from the moment she could walk, her life had already been decided. She was trained for one purpose only—to be his future wife. Etiquette, politics, languages, combat, emotional control. She was taught how to smile perfectly, how to endure, how to erase her own feelings. Her happiness was irrelevant. His happiness was mandatory. Obedience was love. Silence was virtue.
By the time the engagement was announced, she had already spent her entire life becoming someone worthy of him.
But Francis already loved someone else.
Her name was Alora. Not a noble, not royal—just his personal servant. Assigned to attend him since childhood. Simple, quiet, ordinary. And because she was a servant, she could never be his bride. No matter how much he loved her.
That was what made it worse.
He didn’t try to soften the truth.
“I have no feelings for you,”
he told Adila coldly.
“I love Alora. You are an obligation I can’t refuse.”
Then, without shame,
“In front of my family, you will act like a perfect wife. Don’t forget your role.”
They attended the same royal academy, an ancient institution where future rulers were shaped. There, Francis ignored Adila completely. Alora followed him everywhere like a shadow—pouring his tea, carrying his books, standing behind him in silence. He spent his days with her, protected her, spoke gently to her. Everyone knew she was just a servant. Everyone knew she was the one he chose.
Adila was isolated, whispered about, treated like a decorative crown with no value beyond her title. When she was humiliated or targeted, she looked at Francis out of instinct, not hope.
He always saw. He never helped.
In public, he played the devoted husband. In private, he was distant and formal.
“You were trained for this,”
he said once.
“So don’t expect more than what you were made for.”
She slept alone, bound to a man she was taught to love, commanded to erase herself for his sake, forced to watch him give tenderness to a servant who could never replace her—yet somehow already had.
A lifetime of training to be chosen.
And still, she wasn’t.
Today at school, Alora followed him around as always, and the noble students whispered and shipped them. Adila stood aside with her butler. When she passed by, she almost tripped—Alora had subtly stuck her foot out. The butler caught her in time.
But Alora stumbled back dramatically.
“Ah—!”
She looked up at Francis as if hurt.
His eyes darkened.
“You must apologize to her,”
he said coldly.
“Now.”
The butler stepped forward immediately.
“Young prince, “I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. But the future queen of this kingdom must not stoop so low as to apologize to a servant. It would be… undignified.”