She would learn that the power of paparazzi could bring down a princess, let alone someone like her.
She would crawl to him, waving a white flag. He would get the ring back, and then, only then, he would remove the post.
But the damage would already be done. The public would forever brand her as a woman who tried to sleep her way to the top.
She was the promiscuous one, not Calden. She broke up the marriage, not Calden.
And if men like Cyric Feymere knew what was good for them, they’d stay away from her.
Zarelle Stormy could kiss her dream of marrying a rich husband goodbye.
Mathias nodded to himself, satisfied with the plan. He whiled away the morning in the greenhouse, tending to his orchids.
Women were like flowers, he thought. They were beautiful but vulnerable.
