The sky wept that morning.
Gray clouds hung over the Stone estate like curtains drawn for the dead. Rain fell in thin, cold sheets, sliding down the golden gates that once guarded laughter and power. Now, they only kept in the sound of mourning.
Kayla Lawreson stood beneath a black umbrella, her long gown clinging to her like a shadow that refused to let go. Her hands were steady, but her heart was not. Beside her stood Luke — her son — his blue eyes fixed on the coffin being lowered into the ground. Those same eyes once belonged to the man they were burying.
"Goodbye, Max," she whispered, her voice barely rising above the rain. "You promised to come back… you never said it would be like this."
The crowd murmured — royals, politicians, and members of the Stone bloodline. Every man wore a face of pity; every woman hid curiosity behind lace veils. They spoke of legacy, of honor… but not of love. None of them knew the man she had known. The one who held her hands under starlight in a small village far from this palace. The one who taught her that love didn't care about titles.
The priest spoke words she couldn't hear. All Kayla could think of was the last message Maxwell sent before he disappeared — Protect my family… and him.
She never understood who him was. Until now.
Because when she lifted her gaze, she saw a man across the crowd — tall, regal, with hair the color of sunlight and eyes like winter. For a heartbeat, her breath stopped.
"Maxwell?" she breathed.
But it wasn't him.
It was William Stone — the man who shared her husband's face. His cousin. His rival. The man her husband once fought over love for.
He stepped forward as the rain washed over his suit, his gaze locked on hers — quiet, steady, almost apologetic. When he began to speak, the crowd hushed.
> "Maxwell was more than blood," William said. "He was the fire that burned brighter than the crown itself. And though he is gone, his promise will live — through his family, through his son."
Kayla's hands tightened on Luke's shoulder.
Her heart beat faster — not from grief, but from something unfamiliar.
Something she thought had died with her husband.
And as the last shovel of earth fell, she realized the truth:
The war her husband left behind was only beginning.
The rain had stopped by the time they reached the mansion, but the chill lingered in the air. The Stone estate was quiet — too quiet — as servants guided guests inside for the traditional family gathering.
Kayla didn't want to go. Every wall in that house whispered of a life she had been forced to leave behind. Still, with Luke's hand clutching hers, she entered the grand hall where portraits of golden-haired ancestors stared down at her like judges from another time.
They were waiting.
Every member of the royal family — the major and the minor houses — gathered in the Hall of Mirrors, a chamber built to reflect both beauty and power. Chandeliers burned low, lighting the gold and ivory room where whispers floated like smoke.
Kayla felt their eyes.
She was an outsider, a woman who had stolen the heart of a Stone prince and paid for it with his death.
Luke stayed close, his expression unreadable — too calm for a boy of fifteen.
Lord Edward Stone, the patriarch, cleared his throat.
> "We are here to discuss the welfare of the widow and child of Maxwell Stone," he said, his tone as smooth as marble. "The house must decide who will take guardianship until matters of inheritance are settled."
Kayla's grip on Luke's hand tightened. Guardianship? She didn't need their pity or their control.
Then, a calm, firm voice cut through the murmurs.
> "I will take responsibility."
Every head turned. William stood near the far end of the table, his posture straight, his gaze unwavering. The family exchanged glances — some in approval, others in shock.
Before Lord Edward could respond, another voice rose sharply from the back.
> "No."
It was Karen — the head maid's daughter.
She looked stunning even in black, though grief had hardened her beauty. Her eyes — once soft when she spoke of William — now burned with anger and pain.
> "You can't," she said, stepping forward. "You've done enough."
William's expression didn't change, but his hands clasped tighter behind his back.
> "This isn't about us, Karen."
Her laugh was hollow.
> "Isn't it? You once swore to protect our child, William. Tell me—how well did you keep that promise?"
The room fell silent. Even the candles seemed to flicker lower.
Kayla looked between them, confusion mixing with unease. She had heard whispers of William's past, but never this.
Lord Edward exhaled.
> "Enough. This meeting is about Maxwell's family, not old wounds."
Karen's lips trembled, but she bowed her head and stepped aside, though her eyes stayed fixed on William — filled with the kind of love that refused to die quietly.
William finally turned to Kayla and Luke. His voice softened.
> "I made a promise to Maxwell," he said. "And I intend to keep it. You and your son will stay under my protection until we find out who was behind his death."
Kayla stared at him. Part of her wanted to refuse — to walk out and never look back. But something in his voice stopped her. It wasn't authority. It was guilt.
She gave a slow nod, not in surrender, but in silent agreement.
> "Then we find the truth," she said. "No matter what it costs."
William's gaze darkened — half warning, half admiration.
> "Be careful what you wish for, Kayla. In this family, truth costs more than blood."