Chapter 3: Blood, Honor, and Broken Oaths

“Megan is the only daughter of General Parker. Parker has guarded the border for decades. All three of his sons died in Afghanistan. If you divorce your wife, how will you live with yourself? How will you face this country?”

My voice was cold, each word deliberate. I wanted him to feel the weight of what he was throwing away. I could see Megan flinch at the mention of her brothers, but she held her ground.

My son suddenly let out a mocking laugh. “So Dad really does fear the Parker family!”

The disrespect in his tone was like a slap in the face.

“A king afraid of his own subject—doesn’t that—”

He stopped mid-sentence, as if realizing he’d gone too far. The rain beat harder against the windows, drowning out the rest of his thought.

“Dad!”

Megan slammed her forehead against the bricks.

The sound was sharp, startling everyone. Her umbrella fell to the ground, forgotten. I saw blood bead at her hairline, and my heart twisted in my chest.

“Dad, my father would never threaten you.”

Her voice was fierce, trembling with anger and grief. She looked me in the eye, daring me to doubt her family’s honor.

I’d held back long enough. No more. I grabbed the butler’s coffee mug and hurled it at my son.

The mug sailed across the hall, shattering against the floor. Coffee splattered everywhere, and the smell of burnt grounds filled the air. For a moment, everyone froze.

“Sir, calm yourself!” Jenkins rushed to my side, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.

He shot me a pleading look, begging me not to push my heart any further. The staff looked ready to bolt for the exits.

More people dropped to their knees. I watched them, half in disbelief.

One by one, the relatives knelt, heads bowed, as if praying for a miracle. The weight of tradition pressed down on all of us.

Megan’s father had guarded the border for years. All three of his sons had died in battle, leaving only her as the last of the line. Afraid something might happen to her at the front, the old general had her sent back to the city overnight.

I remembered the night she arrived, still in her fatigues, eyes haunted but unbroken. The general’s letter had been stained with tears. He’d entrusted me with his only child, and I’d sworn to protect her as my own.

Worried about the old general’s peace of mind, I’d solemnly promised him his daughter would become my daughter-in-law, the queen, and that any sons she bore would be heirs. That promise moved Parker so much, he wrote pages pledging his loyalty.

His words were full of gratitude, his handwriting shaky but proud. I kept that letter in my desk, a reminder of the promises that built this family.

It hasn’t even been a year.

The ink on the letter was barely dry, and already my son wanted to throw it all away. The betrayal stung more than I cared to admit.

Now this idiot son of mine wants a divorce. If word of this gets back to Parker, there’ll be hell to pay.

The general was a man of his word, but also a man of action. I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, plotting his next move.

Breaking my promise is one thing, but if he raises a militia in rebellion, that’s another matter entirely.

The thought sent a chill down my spine. Civil war over a love affair? Stranger things had happened in this country.

I trust Parker, but I can’t take that risk.

Trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not with so much at stake.

I’m a king. Even if I’m dying, my authority remains. But it’s like my son can’t even see it.

I looked at him, really looked, and saw a stranger. The boy I’d raised was gone, replaced by a man I barely recognized.

He doesn’t want to be king—he wants to be a fool. I’ve never seen anything like it.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d spent my life preparing him for greatness, and all he wanted was to run away.

Have I spoiled him too much?

The question haunted me. Maybe I’d given him too much, shielded him from the real world. Maybe this was my fault.

Back in my day, I fought my brothers tooth and nail for the crown. Now my son is fighting to give it up. If that’s not karma, what is?

The universe has a twisted sense of humor, I’ll give it that.