Chapter 55
“No.”
Camilla shook her head violently, rejecting the truth itself.
“That’s impossible. You risked your life for me—there’s no way you don’t love me!”
Her desperate cry echoed through the room like a hollow wail.
But Ethan’s expression didn’t change.
That day—yes, he had fallen from the cliff in her place, but it hadn’t been for her sake.
It had all been a performance.
A calculated act to bring him closer to Elisa.
He couldn’t tell her that, and so a bitter smile twisted his lips.
“Is it because of your past?”
Camilla, still unable to face reality, clung to any excuse she could find.
“Because you were born a commoner, not a noble? Because you think our difference in status makes it impossible for you to be with a princess like me? That’s why you’re pushing me away, isn’t it?”
Ethan felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He had heard almost the same words once before—from Elisa.
Back then, his heart had ached.
They had loved each other so deeply, yet the cruel divide of social rank had torn them apart.
He had cursed the world that had made such barriers.
But now?
Now, it only irritates him. It disgusted him.
“If that’s the reason,” Camilla said, her voice trembling, “then I’ll give it all up. I’ll abandon my title, my status—everything. I’ll go to you, Ethan.”
The declaration froze the air around them.
Her maid clutched her head and stumbled back against the wall.
Even the knight by the door turned away, squeezing his eyes shut, unwilling to witness this absurd farce any longer.
Ethan’s expression twisted—he hadn’t asked to be part of this ridiculous play.
“I refuse,” he said, each word bitten off like venom.
But Camilla didn’t give up.
“Forget about titles or positions! Just be honest with your heart!”
“I already have been,” Ethan replied coldly.
“You don’t believe me, do you? That I’d give everything up for you? Tell me, what must I do to make you believe me?”
Anyone else would have understood by now.
Anyone else would have stopped.
But Camilla—lost in her own obsession—couldn’t see anything beyond herself.
She was a princess, yes, educated and refined, yet it seemed knowledge didn’t equate to understanding.
Or perhaps she’d lived too long in privilege, too long believing the world would bend to her will.
“If I go back to the capital this instant and publicly renounce my title—will you believe me then? Will you accept my love?”
“No matter what you do, Your Highness,” Ethan said firmly, “I will not accept your heart.”
He wanted to say more—harsher words—but she was still a princess. There were limits he couldn’t cross.
“Because someone else has already taken that place in my heart.”
This time, his words struck deep.
Camilla’s face contorted, her eyes blazing with fury.
She didn’t need him to say the name; she already knew who it was.
Of course she did. She’d investigated his past.
Yet she still dared to act this way—it was laughable.
Ethan’s lips curled in silent scorn.
“Then why?” Camilla’s voice cracked as she clutched at his sleeve.
“If you didn’t love me—if you never cared—then why were you so kind to me? Why did you save me that day? Why did you risk your life on that cliff?”
“Because you are Princess Camilla von Martinez,” Ethan said sharply, pulling his arm away.
The line was drawn, and her face drained of all color.
“N-no… That can’t be…”
Ethan gave a short, dry laugh. Then he stood, his legs still bandaged but his steps unwavering.
The knight guarding the door instinctively stepped aside, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his presence.
“…Ethan!”
Her voice trembled as she called after him, eyes filled with tears.
But Ethan didn’t turn back.
He opened the front door—and there stood Elisa.
“Elisa…?”
According to Prince Howard’s plan, Ethan was supposed to still be inside, speaking with the princess.
Howard had told her to wait, to stay hidden until Camilla left. Only then would the matter be settled cleanly.
Elisa had obeyed—but worry kept her near the entrance. She had been waiting to step in the moment Camilla was gone.
So when Ethan emerged first, she froze in surprise.
Behind him, Camilla appeared, eyes burning with disbelief.
“Your Highness,” Ethan said, his tone sharp.
Then he pulled Elisa into his arms, holding her close before turning to face the princess.
“This,” he declared, “is the woman I love.”
***
Camilla wanted to tear the two of them apart with her bare hands.
But Prince Howard was there, watching—so she couldn’t.
Shame and fury swelled inside her, crushing her pride to pieces.
She said nothing the entire way back to the Sailport Hotel.
Not a word, even when her maid asked if she was all right.
She only bit her nails until her fingertips bled.
“Aaagh!”
Her scream shattered the silence the moment she entered her room.
She seized the vase on the table and hurled it at the wall.
Porcelain exploded across the floor, shards scattering like glass snow.
A sliver sliced her foot, but she didn’t care.
Rage and humiliation burned too hot for pain to matter.
Because you were a princess.
This is the woman I love.
Ethan’s words replayed over and over, each echo stoking her fury.
But what made her truly snap was Elisa—standing there, shy yet radiant in his arms, looking at her with those calm, pitying eyes.
“It’s all her fault! That sly little vixen must have seduced him with her pitiful act!”
Camilla’s shriek turned to raw curses as she grabbed anything within reach and threw it.
A silver candlestick crashed to the ground.
Perfume bottles shattered, flooding the room with a heady, chaotic scent—sweet and sharp, like her fury.
“Your Highness! Please, open the door!”
Her maid pounded frantically from the hall.
Camilla ignored her, throwing a cushion toward the noise.
She tore at her bedding next, feathers spilling out like snow, blanketing the ruined room.
When there was nothing left to destroy, she leaned against the wall, chest heaving.
Her elegant suite now looked like the aftermath of a storm.
“How dare they mock me like that?” she hissed.
“Do they think I’ll just let it go?”
No—never.
She would make them pay. Both of them.
As her fury simmered, something caught her eye—a letter lying crumpled on the floor.
Her gaze fixed on the red wax seal, its insignia unmistakable.
The crest of House Leslie.
Her pulse quickened.
Could it be? A letter from Elisa Leslie herself—sent to gloat? To mock her defeat?
If so, this was perfect.
A letter like that could serve as evidence. Proof enough to accuse Elisa of insulting royalty.
Once she was punished, Ethan’s heart would come back to her.
Clinging to that thought, Camilla tore open the envelope.
To Her Highness, Princess Camilla von Martinez.
But the sender wasn’t Elisa.
I write to you out of concern, knowing how deeply you must have been hurt after discovering the truth between Lady Elisa Leslie and Lord Ethan Estevan.
I believe my help may be of great use to you now.
If you require my assistance, please contact me anytime. I am, and always will be, on your side.
—Derek Grenville.
Camilla’s eyes narrowed.
Derrick Grenville—Elisa’s fiancé.
But something was wrong.
The seal of House Leslie wasn’t his to use.
And looking closer… the insignia had been stamped upside down.
A fake.
“The key to separating them…” she murmured, rereading the line that stood out most.
As she did, the malice in her eyes flickered into hope.
She didn’t know how Derrick had managed to get the letter here—or what his true intentions were.
But one thing was certain.
Their goals were the same.
