"Mm," Ashley Bowen nodded, her crying finally subsiding. She took the water Jenson Shelby handed her and took a large gulp.
The funeral rites for Emperor Sinclair were ongoing. The nation mourned for three days, flying flags at half-mast. The United Nations also lowered its flags to half-mast to express its solemn condolences.
Presidents and prime ministers from various countries sent their condolences, some even visiting the nation in person.
In the main palace, Queen Vance sat clutching a portrait of the late Emperor Sinclair, looking as if her very soul had been ripped from her body.
'In a single night, I lost both my husband and my beloved son. What am I supposed to do now?'
Her heart ached. 'Why did Emperor Sinclair have to leave this world so suddenly? Why didn't he think of us—his son and me—before he died? In the end, he still left everything to that treacherous son of his.'
She was filled with hate. A deep, searing hate.
