BREAKING: Illegitimate Son of Late King James Philip Identified.
He blinked. Clicked. Skimmed. The words refused to change.
“Multiple anonymous palace sources confirm that Sebastian Hawthorne—Viscount Edgecliffe and political advisor to the Crown—is in fact the biological son of the late King James Philip and Madeline Hawthorne née Rousseau…”
Silence filled the room. He sat up, breath shallow, mouth dry. He read it again, as if repetition might alter reality. But the words remained stubbornlypresent.
“Known to the palace. Hidden from the public. Sources suggest the royal family has known for years.”
His hands shook. With sudden violence, he hurled the phone across the room. It struck the wardrobe with a crack, bounced, landed face-down. He sat frozen, jaw clenched, listening to nothing but his own breathing.
Then he laughed—once, sharp and bitter. Again. Because of course. Charles. This was his countermove. Not just against Harper’s story, but against him for his part in it.
“He waited until it would hurt the most,” he said quietly to the empty room. “He wants to discredit everyone by making me toxic.”
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Sebastian? Open the door.” Harper’s voice, muffled but urgent. She sounded like she’d run from downstairs.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
“You’ve seen it. I know you have. Alexander and Ethan both called me—Charles finally made his move.”
Still nothing.
Silence stretched between them. Soft footsteps indicated she hadn’t left.
The door clicked open slowly. Harper let herself in—dressed but not polished, hair hastily pinned, phone clutched in her hand, breath tight with concern and simmering anger.
The room told its own story. The wardrobe door hung half-open. His phone lay abandoned on the floor. Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, hands dangling between his knees. Shirtless. Eyes blank.
“You should’ve locked it,” she said quietly.
“I thought I did.”
“Apparently not.”
She stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her. No one else would see him like this. Just her.
“It’s all in there,” he said, speaking slowly as if his throat hurt. “Every word they wanted to print. ‘Illegitimate.’ ‘Hidden.’ ‘Scandal.’ They even used the word ‘lovechild.’” He snorted. “Lovechild. Makesme sound like I was conceived to a Barry White soundtrack instead of in a moment of spectacularly poor judgment.”
Harper almost smiled at that, recognizing his defense mechanism. But she could see the pain beneath the humor. Harper sat across from him, careful not to touch. “Hawthorne did this. Alexander knows it. He threatened to ruin my reputation by linking us romantically. Now he’s making you the scandal to achieve the same end. He wants to stop Parts Two and Three at any cost.”
“Good. Let Alexander be furious. Let him march around and make official statements and call for decorum.” His voice turned bitter. “Meanwhile, I’m the royal mistake in everyone’s morning coffee. The perfect distraction.”
“You are not a mistake. And you are not a distraction,” Harper stated firmly, cutting through his despair.
“I’m both.” The words came out sharp, snarling. “That’s the point. This wasn’t just about me. It was about wounding Alexander, yes, but it was also about silencing the story, making sure no one pays attention to any of the rest of it.” His voice cracked—not loudly, but enough. “He waited until I was just close enough to do the most damage. To you. To Alexander.”
Harper studied him—quiet, sharp, seeing everything. The pain, the fury, the understanding of his father’s cruel calculus.
“This doesn’t stop the truth from coming out. It just raises the stakes.”
He met her eyes finally. Disbelief warred with fury, and beneath both, something deeper and more desperate that he would never name aloud.
“You really think I can come back from this?”
“You already have.” Her voice was soft but certain. And then, because she saw him unraveling, because someone had to, she stood. She walked over and sat beside him. Not facing him—beside him. Shoulder to shoulder. “He wants us to break. To run. We’re not going to.”