Chapter 9
(Evelyn’s POV)
I immediately guessed who was behind the news—it had to be Emma.
No one else would stoop so low or have such a spiteful vendetta against me. The photos, captions, and twisted rumors painting me as a cheating rogue reeked of her desperation to ruin me.
I wasted no time. “Get me the PR team,” I snapped at one of my attendants, my voice sharp with authority.
Within moments, a team of palace professionals was gathered in my office, awaiting my orders. I handed them the phone and showed them the vile articles spreading across social media and news outlets.
“Suppress this story immediately,” I commanded. “Issue a statement that these rumors are false and defamatory.”
The head of the PR team nodded swiftly. “Yes, Your Highness. We’ll issue a cease-and-desist to the media outlets and demand they retract the story.”
“That’s not enough,” I said coldly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. “Make it clear that anyone who continues to spread these lies will face legal action. Use the royal authority if you need to.”
I could feel my anger simmering just beneath the surface, but I kept my expression calm and composed. I refused to let Emma—or anyone else—see me flinch.
“Evelyn? It’s the middle of the night,” Artemis yawns. “What’s going on?”
“Everyone, leave us.”
The room clears; we’re alone. The ticking of the grandfather clock behind us is so loud that it seems as if time exists only in this spot at this moment.
“Laney sent me these,” I sigh, knowing his reaction will be anything beside calm—not an Artemis strong suit.
“This is outrageous!” he growled, pacing the room like a restless wolf. “Who is leaking this? Who knows who you are, Ev?”
“I think it’s Emma or Logan.”
“Or both?”
Even after all had settled, and I was back in the silent darkness of my chambers, the night was unkind, making the dawn just as unwelcome. Since my reality had been turned virtually upside down in the previous hours, I turned my attention to the mate ball.
It was scheduled for the following evening, and I was determined not to let anything or anyone ruin it.
“Bring me the guest list,” I instructed the palace supervisor, Georgie, the next morning.
He returned quickly, handing me a thick folder filled with names. I flipped through the pages, scanning the list carefully.
When I found Emma’s name, I circled it in red ink and slashed a firm line through it.
“Remove her from the list,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “She is not to set foot in this palace. And I want all security protocols in place.”
The supervisor nodded. “Understood, Your Highness.”
Before he left the room, I added one more request. “Check for Logan’s name as well.”
The supervisor flipped through the pages for me, eventually shaking his head. “Alpha Logan’s name is not on the guest list, Your Highness.”
Relief flooded through me — looks like my father actually listened.
Sure, not inviting Logan might seem rude, especially since he’s the Alpha of one of the most powerful packs, but I couldn’t care less. I didn’t want to see him.
Besides, it’s not like he asked to be invited anyway. That worked just fine for me.
The mate ball was the perfect opportunity for him to network with other Alphas and secure alliances.
Still, I put the thought aside. Logan’s absence only made things easier for me.
The palace was a vision of grandeur.
Every corner shimmered with soft golden light, and red carpets stretched across the entrance, lined with photographers and reporters eagerly waiting to capture the guests' arrival.
I sat in the back seat of the luxury car, my hands resting lightly on my lap.
My gown was a masterpiece—an emerald green creation tailored to perfection. The fabric shimmered like liquid under the light, and the intricate embroidery along the bodice gave it an air of regal sophistication.
“Ready?” my brother asked from the seat beside me. He was calm and confident, his tailored suit immaculate as always.
I nodded, smoothing out the skirt of my dress. “Let’s do this.”
As the car rolled up to the entrance, flashbulbs erupted like fireworks, lighting up the night. My brother stepped out first, his movements graceful and deliberate.
The crowd gasped audibly when they saw him.
“It’s the prince!” someone exclaimed, and a ripple of excitement spread through the crowd.
He ignored the commotion, turning back to open my door. He offered me his hand, and I took it as I stepped out of the car.
The reaction was immediate. The whispers grew louder, the cameras flashed faster, and I could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes trying to figure out who I was.
“Who is she?” someone murmured. “Who’s the woman with the prince?”
I kept my head high, my expression calm and composed.
My father had been right—this was the perfect way to reintroduce me to the world, not as a rogue, but as the royal princess I was always meant to be.
As we approached the palace entrance, I spotted a familiar figure standing near the steps.
Emma.
She was dressed in a gaudy red gown that clung too tightly to her figure, her makeup heavy, and her expression smug. But when her eyes landed on me, her face twisted into something ugly.
“Would you look at that, a rogue can get in too, even if she’s clinging to a noble!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and dramatic.
The crowd turned to look at her, and for a moment, there was silence.
Artemis stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression calm but icy.
“Clinging to a noble?” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you saying I’m clinging to her?”
The crowd erupted into laughter, and Emma’s face turned bright red with embarrassment.
I stepped forward, my tone sharp and cold. “Emma, I’d suggest you stop meddling in my business before you embarrass yourself further.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned back toward the entrance. My brother followed, and we walked inside together, leaving Emma fuming in our wake.
As we reached the palace doors, the guards stepped aside to let us through without hesitation. My brother and I didn’t need invitations to enter our own ball.
But behind us, I heard a commotion.
“Your name isn’t on the guest list,” one of the guards said firmly.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Emma arguing with them, her face flushed with frustration.
“What do you mean I’m not on the list?” she snapped. “Evelyn doesn’t have an invitation either! Have her stopped as well!”
The guard ignored her, turning to address me instead. “Your Highness, your orders?”
I paused, letting the moment hang in the air. Emma’s eyes widened in anticipation, as if she actually thought she could win this.
“Escort her out,” I said calmly. “She’s not welcome here.”
Emma’s face twisted in outrage. “You dare?” she shrieked.
The guards didn’t hesitate. They stepped forward, blocking her path and forcing her back toward the stairs.
She struggled and protested, her voice growing louder and more desperate, but it was no use.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, and I turned away, walking into the palace without a second glance. It was a spectacle we all could live without. However, I was sure the morning tabloids were likely to have a feast as grand as our own tonight.
As the guards pushed her back, she stumbled. Her heel caught on the edge of the step, and she fell, landing in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
