Mocked by Nobles, Claimed by the King - Part 2
The silence that followed the King’s words was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
Lady Beatrice’s smirk vanished, her face draining of color until she looked as pale as the marble floor beneath her feet. The two guards who had been advancing on Elena froze mid-step, their heavy armor clanking softly in the otherwise dead room. The nobles exchanged bewildered, horrified glances, unsure if they had misheard or if the ruler of Valmont had suddenly lost his mind.
“Your… Your Majesty?” Lady Beatrice stammered, her voice cracking as she struggled to maintain her composure. She forced a strained, nervous laugh, looking around the room for support. “Surely you jest. This is a commoner. A peasant from the outer villages. The coronation gown was commissioned specifically for Princess Celeste of the Northern Realms to seal the alliance. It cannot possibly belong to… to this.”
King Adrian did not look at Beatrice. His gaze remained locked on Elena, his dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. Slowly, deliberately, the King stepped forward, holding the crimson silk as if it were the most fragile, precious artifact in existence.
“I do not jest, Lady Beatrice,” the King said, his voice low but carrying to every corner of the chamber. “And I suggest you choose your next words very carefully.”
He stopped just inches from Elena. Up close, she could see the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes, but beneath that weariness was a fierce, undeniable certainty. He held the gown out to her.
“Put it on, Elena,” he murmured, his tone softening into something that sounded shockingly like a plea.
Elena stared at the brilliant red fabric, then up at the King. Her mind was spinning. How did he know her name? She was just a seamstress from a forgotten village, a girl who spent her days mending torn tunics and washing linens. She had only come to the palace because an official royal summons had been delivered to her doorstep that morning, ordering her presence without explanation.
“My Lord…” Elena whispered, her voice trembling. “I think there has been a mistake. I am nobody. I cannot wear the clothes of a queen.”
“You are the only one who can,” King Adrian replied. He turned his head slightly, addressing the head royal seamstress who stood trembling near the back of the room. “Mistress Margaret. Take her to the changing chambers. Assist her.”
Margaret, a stout woman with sharp eyes, bowed low. “At once, Your Majesty.”
As Margaret gently took Elena by the arm and guided her toward the private dressing rooms, the chamber erupted into a frenzy of hushed, panicked whispers. Lady Beatrice stepped into the King’s path, her desperation overcoming her fear.
“Sire, this is madness!” Beatrice hissed, keeping her voice low but furious. “Princess Celeste’s entourage will arrive at the palace gates within the hour! If she sees a peasant girl wearing the sacred gown of the realm, it will be seen as an act of war! The Northern alliance will be ruined!”
King Adrian finally looked at Beatrice, his eyes turning to chips of ice. “The Northern alliance was built on a lie, Beatrice. A lie that ends today. And if Celeste wishes for war over a dress, then let her bring it. But she will not wear what was stolen.”
Inside the changing chamber, Elena stood perfectly still as Margaret and three other attendants moved around her like a whirlwind. They slipped her out of her faded linen dress and lifted the heavy scarlet gown over her head. The moment the silk touched her skin, a strange sensation washed over Elena. It didn’t feel heavy or oppressive; it felt like a second skin. It fit her perfectly—every seam, every line, every curve, as if the dress had been molded to her body.
Margaret fastened the final silver clasp at the back of the dress and stepped away. When Elena looked into the full-length mirror, she gasped.
The girl staring back at her was unrecognizable. The crimson silk made her skin glow, and the diamonds woven into the bodice caught the light, sparkling like a galaxy of stars. But it wasn’t just the dress. There was a strange, sudden shift in her own posture. The nervousness that had plagued her all day seemed to melt away, replaced by an ancient, quiet strength she didn't know she possessed.
“By the heavens,” Margaret whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. “It’s true. The prophecy of the Lost Line… it’s true.”
“What do you mean?” Elena asked, turning to her.
Before Margaret could answer, the heavy oak doors of the changing chamber were pushed open. King Adrian stood in the doorway. The nobles lined the hallway behind him, straining their necks to see.
When the King saw Elena, he stopped. For a moment, the fierce warrior-king looked completely vulnerable. He walked into the room, reached into his velvet robe, and pulled out a small, velvet pouch. From it, he drew a breathtaking silver necklace, set with a massive, brilliant sapphire that burned with an inner blue light.
The crest of the Ashford Royal Family—the true rulers of the realm before the usurpation twenty years ago—was engraved on the back of the jewel.
The nobles outside gasped. Everyone recognized the Star of Ashford. It was the missing crown jewel, thought to have been destroyed when the old palace burned.
“Twenty years ago, my father was forced to participate in a coup that overthrew the rightful rulers of this land,” King Adrian said, his voice echoing out into the hallway so every noble could hear. “He took the throne, but he lived in guilt. On his deathbed, he confessed the truth to me: the infant Princess of the Ashford line had not perished in the fire. She had been smuggled out by a loyal guard and hidden in the outermost peasant villages.”
Adrian stepped closer to Elena, gently placing the sapphire necklace around her neck. The cold stone burned against her skin, sending a jolt of recognition through her heart. Images flashed in her mind—a burning room, a weeping woman in a red dress, a song sung in a dark forest. Memories she had locked away as childhood nightmares suddenly became crystal clear.
She wasn't a peasant. She was the rightful heir.
“My father spent his life searching for you, and so did I,” Adrian continued, turning her toward the mirror so she could see herself. “This gown was not made by the royal seamstresses of this palace. It was woven by your own mother, the late Queen, before the fall. It was enchanted to fit only the true blood of Ashford. Anyone else who wore it would find the fabric turning to ash.”
Adrian turned around, facing the hallway where the nobles stood frozen in utter shock. Lady Beatrice looked as though she might faint, her hands gripping a pillar for support.
“Lady Beatrice,” the King called out, his voice ringing with absolute authority. “You spoke of dirt and worthlessness. You spoke of hands that have no value. Kneel before Elena of the House of Ashford, the true Queen of this realm.”
For a long, agonizing moment, no one moved. Then, the Lord who had mocked Elena earlier dropped to his knees, his jeweled glass clinking against the floor. Another noble followed, then another.
Finally, with trembling knees and a face twisted in humiliation, Lady Beatrice sank to the marble floor, bowing her head so low it touched the ground.
Elena looked at the sea of nobles bowing before her, then at King Adrian, who offered her his hand with a respectful nod. The girl who had been terrified of touching the royal dress stepped forward, her sandals forgotten, her crown found.
He discovered his wife's worst secret thanks to the maid... but what the young woman carried in her womb destroyed the entire family.
PART 1
The storm lashed against the immense windows of the mansion in Pedregal with a fury unusual for Mexico City. Arturo reacted purely on instinct, driven by an adrenaline rush he hadn't felt since his early days building his real estate empire. Before Constanza's stiletto heel could crush the silver reliquary against the marble floor, he slid across and snatched it away with astonishing speed.
Lupita, the young maid, trembled, huddled against the granite kitchen island. She clutched her chest, right where the leather cord of the locket had burned her skin when it was ripped off. Suddenly, the heavy mahogany doors of the service entrance burst open. A woman of about 55 burst into the scene. She was soaked, her shawl dripping wet, her breath ragged with panic.
"Don't leave her alone with that viper!" the woman shouted, pointing at Constanza with a terror that seemed to come from another life.
For the first time in the 15 years of marriage Arturo had been with her, he saw Constanza lose her icy composure. The mistress of the house took two steps back, her eyes wide.
"You…" Constanza murmured, clenching her fists. "Damn it, it can't be."
The newcomer ignored the millionaire and fixed her gaze on the young maid. Lupita, her lips as white as paper, could barely utter a word.
—Doña Carmen?
Arturo, oblivious to the electrical tension in the room, glanced down at the open locket in his hand. Inside was an old photograph, folded at the edges. It showed a young man in a politician's suit holding a newborn baby girl. But what chilled Arturo's blood wasn't the man, but the woman's hand, which appeared cut off at the edge of the image. She wore an unmistakable gold and diamond bracelet. A family heirloom that Constanza had kept jealously guarded in her safe since 1998.
The tycoon looked up. His eyes, normally serene, were now two dark wells.
"Constanza," he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "I want the truth. Right now."
Constanza stood up straight, regaining the fierceness of someone who has spent half her life surviving in high society by trampling on others.
"The truth is, this Indian woman came here to extort us," he spat, looking at Carmen with disgust. "Just like her sister did years ago at the ranch. Just like this goody-two-shoes is doing now with her innocent face."
Lupita looked at her as if the whole world had shattered.
"Did my mom know her?" the young woman asked, her voice breaking.
Carmen stepped forward, leaving a puddle of water on the spotless floor.
—Yes, my child. I knew her very well. Your mother, Alma, was no ordinary woman. She worked in the main house of this family, back when this lady's parents were still alive. She was the nanny for the son Constanza had.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by thunder outside. Arturo frowned, completely taken aback.
"Constanza has never been able to have children," he said.
Carmen closed her eyes, and a tear mingled with the rain on her face.
—That's what she made all of Mexico believe.
Constanza advanced with unrestrained violence, ready to strike the woman, but stopped abruptly. It wasn't Arturo who stopped her, but her own gaze, which slowly descended until it fixed on Lupita's stomach. A twisted, almost demonic smile began to spread across the millionaire's perfect lips. No one in that kitchen was prepared for the hell that was about to be unleashed…
PART 2
"Enough of this nonsense!" Constanza roared, trying to regain control. "Arturo, get these starving women out of my house!"
But Arturo grabbed her arm with a force that silenced her. He had never touched her like that. He had never looked at her with such contempt.
"You will never give another order in this house," he declared. "Keep talking, Mrs. Carmen."
The older woman took a deep breath, drawing on years of silence for courage.
—Twenty-six years ago, Constanza was indeed pregnant. But not by her first husband, the businessman. The real father was a congressman she was secretly having an affair with. When the girl was born, everything turned into a nightmare. The dates didn't add up, the husband demanded proof. And your mother, Alma, overheard it all one night.
Arturo slowly released his wife's arm, feeling disgust churn in his stomach.
"And Lupita?" the tycoon asked.
“Constanza had a healthy baby girl,” Carmen continued, weeping. “But the political and social scandal was going to destroy her status, her wedding, and the fortune she was to inherit. So she did the unthinkable. She bought the doctor’s silence, pretended the baby had been stillborn… and ordered a hitman to make her disappear.”
Lupita backed up until she bumped into the cabinets.
—Little Virgin, no… no…
“Your mother couldn’t allow such a monstrosity,” Carmen sobbed. “She stole you from the clinic that very morning. She fled with you in a truck to Michoacán. She raised you there, like her own daughter, selling food to support you. The locket was the only thing she stole from Constanza’s room as evidence, in case they ever came looking for her.”
The air in the kitchen was thick with tension. Arturo looked at his wife. Constanza wasn't denying anything. There wasn't a single tear of regret in her eyes, only a savage fury directed at the young employee.
"Tell me it's a lie," Lupita begged, crying uncontrollably. "Please, tell me it's a lie."
Constanza raised her chin, displaying her pearl necklace like armor.
—Why deny it? The village girls are already here with their theater.
Lupita let out a strangled scream that tore at her throat. Arturo felt such a deep anger that he had to lean against the granite island to keep from doing something crazy.
"Is she your daughter?" he asked his wife.
—Biologically, I suppose so —Constanza replied with chilling coldness.
Lupita doubled over, protectively hugging her own belly. Carmen rushed to support her, stroking her hair. But Constanza wasn't finished yet. She fixed that sickening gaze on the young woman's abdomen once more.
"And what else did you find out, you nosy old woman?" Constanza said with a dry laugh. "Because five months ago, when I saw how this goody-two-shoes was looking at the family photos, I sent an investigator to follow her. I found out that Alma was dead. I found out who she was. And I thought about sending her packing with a nice check. But then I discovered her little gift."
Arturo felt his heart pounding in his ears.
—What are you talking about?
Constanza smoothed her designer dress with terrifying calm.
—I discovered that the man who got my “daughter” pregnant wasn’t the gardener. Right, Lupita?
The young woman raised her face, bathed in tears, trembling from head to toe.
—The child this woman is expecting —Constanza announced, savoring each word— is Mauricio's.
The name echoed like a gunshot to Arturo's head.
Mauricio.
His nephew.
The only son of his late brother.
The main heir to the corporation and the pride of the family.
Lupita shook her head in horror.
—No… it can’t be…
Suddenly, memories flooded back to Arturo. Mauricio's nightly visits to the mansion. His supposed midnight bouts of thirst in the kitchen. The way Lupita would lower her gaze and flee whenever he arrived.
"Did he force you?" Arturo asked, approaching Lupita, feeling a mixture of guilt and murderous rage.
The young woman closed her eyes, unable to hold his gaze.
“He swore he loved me,” Lupita whispered between sobs, defeated. “He told me he was going to buy me a house in Coyoacán. That we were going to move far away. But when I told him I was pregnant… he turned into a monster. He yelled at me that I was just a starving servant. That no one would believe me. That he would have me killed if I said a word.”
"You son of a bitch..." Arturo muttered, clenching his fists until his palms bled.
Constanza burst into loud laughter.
—Exactly! Your beloved nephew got my unwanted daughter pregnant. Can you imagine the circus in the gossip magazines? Can you imagine the vultures on the board of directors trying to take over the company because of this scandal?
"Is money the only thing you care about?" roared Arturo.
"Name and power are all that matter in this country!" Constanza shouted, finally losing her temper. "I sacrificed everything for this life! And I'm not going to let some bastard and her disgusting offspring take what's mine!"
Carmen, trembling with rage, confronted her.
—She's your blood! She's your daughter and your grandson!
"I don't have a daughter!" Constanza spat out. "I have a mistake that should have been thrown in the trash 26 years ago!"
Lupita let out a guttural groan. Her hands clutched her stomach. Her knees buckled. She fell heavily to the ground.
"My little girl!" cried Carmen, kneeling beside her.
Lupita was breathing in short gasps, her face contorted with pain.
—It hurts… it's tearing me apart…
Arturo circled the granite island in one second. He was the first to see it. A thick, dark red stain was beginning to stain Lupita's white uniform and spread across the marble floor.
"Canelo, get out of the way!" Arturo shouted to the Belgian Shepherd of the house, who had begun to bark desperately at Constanza.
Arturo's protective instinct was fully ignited.
"Get the armored truck ready!" he yelled to his head of security, who was appearing in the hallway. "Call Ángeles Hospital! I want the best operating room, gynecologists, and my team of lawyers waiting in 10 minutes!"
Lupita wept with primal panic, clutching her apron.
—My baby doesn't… Virgin Mary, my baby doesn't…
Arturo lifted her in his arms with surprising ease. He felt the young woman's body burning with fever and trembling. And just as he was about to take the first step toward the door, Constanza's venomous voice echoed behind him.
—If he loses, he'll be doing everyone a favor.
Arturo stopped. He turned his head slowly. The look he gave his wife wasn't one of anger; it was the promise of utter destruction.
“Listen to me carefully, Constanza,” he said, with a chilling calm. “You’re dead to me. Your place in this house, your position at the company, your credit cards—it all ends today. If Lupita or this child suffer even one more harm, I will use every penny of my fortune to throw you in jail. I’ll leave you penniless.”
Constanza swallowed hard. For the first time in her life, she felt pure terror. Because she knew that Arturo's threats weren't empty.
The tycoon walked toward the exit, followed by Carmen, who was praying aloud. The dog, Canelo, stayed in the kitchen, growling at Constanza, cornering her against the wall.
But when Arturo crossed the front door with Lupita bleeding in his arms, the security chief's radio emitted a loud buzz.
The man in the black suit heard the receiver, turned pale, and ran through the rain to Arturo.
"Don Arturo... excuse me... it's from the Attorney General's Office," said the guard, trembling.
Arturo shielded Lupita's face from the rain.
—What do you want now? Make way!
The guard swallowed hard, staring at the blood dripping from Lupita.
—They just arrested your nephew Mauricio in the boarding area of the Toluca airport… He was going to flee to Europe.
Lupita let out a groan upon hearing the name. Arturo tensed up.
—Why was he arrested?
The head of security looked up, horrified by what he was about to say.
—A nurse from a clandestine clinic reported him half an hour ago. She said that Mauricio paid her 2 million pesos in cash to be ready… because he planned to kidnap Lupita's baby as soon as it was born and make it disappear on the highway.
