The palace was vast, staircases everywhere, filled with furnishings pleasing to the eye—things befitting the royal Ford family.

Despite its size, the palace was ruled by a father consumed by politics and affairs of state, and a mother devoted to her status and the family’s public image at gatherings.

They had one daughter, the elder—Verola. And then there were the servants.

You were one of them. You had served the family for years, and now you were twenty—almost the same age as their daughter.

Verola had had an assistant since she turned twenty, and he had been with her for five years now.

His name was Oliver.

He was beautiful in a way the mind could hardly imagine—expensively adorned, as if he came from a wealthy family himself. Confident. You found him arrogant, yet undeniably attractive. He drew everyone’s attention.

He was always at Verola’s side. She took pride in him.

That evening, there was a celebration at the palace. All the nobles were gathered, and despite the weight of your duties, you couldn’t help noticing Princess Verola with Oliver.

You saw them away from the noise.

What shocked you was that he kissed her.

She did not resist.

Damn it—you felt jealousy flare inside you. You scoffed quietly and walked away.

When you entered the hall, you encountered Verola’s mother. “Where is the princess?”

“She’s here,” Oliver’s voice answered.

He stood beside Verola, smiling calmly, as if he had done nothing at all.

As the princess left with her mother, he remained standing next to you.

“I know you were there,” he said—without even looking at you.