Kaiden stirred in his father's arms, his tiny fingers reaching toward the air as if searching for something—for you. His soft coo cut through the tension like a thread of warmth in the frozen room.

The king turned, settling Kaiden back onto the throne's velvet cushion. The boy's wide eyes found yours, and his little mouth curved into a gurgling smile—unaware, innocent, devastating.

The words hung in the air like a verdict. Grateful. For the ashes of eight years. For the child you'd given him, now held like a trophy in his arms. For the love you'd believed in, now revealed as nothing but stagecraft.