My name is Jenessa Von Heist of Celia.
Yes. Von Heist.
Yes. That Celia—the kingdom with white towers, gold-lined streets, and nobles who pretend their hands have never touched dirt.
And yes, unfortunately, I am a princess.
Though "princess" is a generous title for someone who was never meant to exist in the first place.A mistake, they call it.
An illegitimate child.
A scandal wrapped in silk and shame.
My mother was a maid. A lowly one, according to palace standards—but beautiful enough to catch the wandering eye of the king. King Edwards Von Heist. My father.
They had what people like to romanticize as a "love story." A short one. Stolen glances, secret meetings, whispered promises that never survive daylight.
Then she got pregnant.
And instead of clinging to the palace gates, crying and begging like people expect women to do, she disappeared. No farewell. No confession. No letter tucked beneath a pillow.
She left with me growing quietly inside her womb.
She did raise me, I'll give her that. In a small wooden cabin far from the capital, surrounded by trees and silence. For a while, I thought that was the whole world. Just the two of us. Just us against nothing.
Until the day I turned five.
We played hide and seek that afternoon. I still remember laughing, my hands over my eyes as I counted clumsily, the sound of her footsteps fading into the woods.
She never came back.
Instead, two men in heavy armor entered the cabin. Their boots were loud against the wooden floor. Their faces were hidden beneath steel helmets, and their presence swallowed the room whole.
I don't remember screaming.
I just remember being carried.
The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of towering gates carved with crests I didn't recognize yet—but would come to resent for the rest of my life.
The Imperial Palace of Celia.
That was how my life as a nobody ended and my life as a problem began.
The queen—Erica Von Heist—had no idea about the affair.
So when she found out about me? Oh, she lost it.
The palace erupted into chaos. Servants were punished for crimes they didn't commit. Glass shattered. Voices echoed through halls meant for elegance. Rage seeped into every corner like poison.
I never found out how my father discovered the truth. Honestly? I don't give a fuck. What mattered was the aftermath.
Suddenly, I had a family.
Two stepsisters: Eliana and Veronica.
And a baby half-brother: Filbert.
I was too young to understand politics, power, or jealousy. All I knew was that I had walked straight into a real-life Cinderella story—minus the fairy godmother and happy illusions.
Eliana and Veronica were cruel in the way only people raised with privilege can be. Calculated. Smiling while they pushed you down the stairs.
And the queen? She was worse. After all, monsters don't appear from nothing. Someone has to raise them.
Despite my title, I was treated like a servant. Hidden from the public. Kept away from court gatherings. Scrubbed clean of relevance.
Filbert, though… Filbert was different. Soft-spoken, angelic. A child who smiled without malice. I used to watch him sleep and hope—pray—that the palace wouldn't rot him from the inside out like it did the rest.
The only person who ever truly acknowledged me was my grandfather.
Robert Filguard.
General of Celia's military forces.
Old, scarred, broad-shouldered, and terrifying to everyone except me.
Despite his age, he stood straighter than most men half his years. His voice carried authority, but when he spoke to me, it softened—like he was afraid I might shatter if he raised it too high.He cared.
And sometimes, that was enough to survive.
In Celia, seventeen marked the age of marriage. Lucky me.
Father never planned to celebrate it. No banquet. No announcement. No gown. I was meant to remain a secret forever—a stain hidden beneath royal robes. His mistake.
But Grandpa Robert didn't see it that way.
He fought for me. Gods, did he fight. Hours of heated discussion behind closed doors. Voices rising, pride clashing, silence stretching thin.
In the end, my father caved.
And just like that, the palace transformed.
Gold banners draped over balconies. Chandeliers polished until they blinded. Music rehearsed until it echoed through my bones.
The night before the celebration, I sat alone in my room, anxiety clawing at my chest.
What would they see when they looked at me?
A princess?
Or proof of betrayal?
A knock came at my door.
"Princess," a familiar voice chimed.
Tricia—the servant who had been with me since the day I arrived—entered, practically vibrating with excitement. In her hands was a large ornate box.
"The king asked me to give this to you."
I opened it.
Inside lay the most radiant gown I had ever seen.
White fabric, soft as clouds. Gold embroidery scattered like constellations. The skirt flowed in layered waves like blooming flowers, and the bodice dipped boldly at the chest. Puffy sleeves, delicate gloves.
I stared.
"…Tricia," I said slowly, "are you sure this is for the right person?"
She blinked. Then nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! His Majesty said it's for you. He said he would love to see you try it on."
Love.
From that man's mouth?
Pfft. Give me a break.
That night, sleep refused to come easily.
When it finally did, it dragged me into darkness. I couldn't move.
A man stood before me, cloaked in shadows. A scythe rested casually in his hand, its blade catching light that didn't exist. His smile was calm—gentle, even—but it made my blood freeze.
He stepped closer. Closer. I tried to scream.
I woke up with a gasp.
Morning light streamed through the windows. The celebration was tonight.
Servants flooded my room, dragging me into baths, treatments, and endless preparations. My eyes were red. My thoughts unsettled.
That nightmare felt real. Too real.
By evening, I barely recognized my reflection.
I looked… ethereal.
Yeah. I'll hype myself.
A knock echoed.
I opened the door to find my father standing there.
"Father…"
"Dear," he whispered, eyes wide. Tears shimmered. "You look magnificent… just like your mother."
Tch. This man really—
"I'm ready," I said, forcing a smile and extending my hand.
He offered his elbow.
We walked into the ballroom together.
The crowd was massive. Nobles of Celia. Representatives from Grandcrest and Cunningham. Eyes judged. Whispers spread.
As my father delivered his speech—talking about protection, love, and then casually announcing my illegitimacy—I scanned the crowd.
My stepsisters flirted shamelessly with foreign dukes.
Of course.
As we descended the staircase, a man rushed forward.
"Ah! King Edwards Von Heist! A pleasure!" He bowed exaggeratedly. "And greetings, Princess Jessica."
I bowed back politely.
"King Charles of Cunningham," my father said.
Then came the words that made my skin crawl.
"My son has shown interest," King Charles said with a grin. "He noticed her the moment she stepped onto the balcony."
The fuck—?
My father laughed. "I wouldn't mind if he courted her. Strengthen our alliance."
"William!" King Charles called.
I turned.
Blond hair. Green eyes. A lazy smile. Flirting with two noble ladies before sauntering over.
"Oh, Princess Jenessa," he said smoothly. "What a pleasure."
Pleasure my foot.
Something told me—very clearly—that this man would be a pain in the ass of his own.
And somehow…
I felt like I'd already seen worse. I had to get rid of him immediately before he becomes a problem in my already miserable life...