Chapter 1

It happens at her debutante.

Livia Katrina Valentina has just turned sixteen. She had been waiting for this day since she was little. A debutante was something all girls of high society look forward to. It was the moment a girl bloomed into a woman. It was her introduction into the aristocracy, no, her debut. It was her moment to shine and be the center of attention.

She had been planning out this day for years alongside her mother.

Livia had even graciously invited the homewrecker to her party if only to rub it into her nose that the crown prince was her fiancée. Yes, everything had been going to plan accordingly.

The party would be for her.

Livia pictured it easily.

The ballroom with high walls and polished floors would be draped in the color of dark purple and blues to match the late night, and no expense would be spared. From the crystal cups to the porcelain plates, everything would sparkle in the warm glow of the room. Everyone who was anyone would be invited. After all, it wasn't every day that the future queen of the country debuted. It was a very important event to attend.

She would walk down the grand staircase with Crown Prince Rodale on her arm as everyone looked up to them with a gaze of admiration. Livia would be wearing a beautiful dress. One that would be perfectly tailored and one of a kind. It would be made by the top designer in the country and would perfectly accent all of her lovely features.

Her skin was pale, almost ghostly, and her purple hair, rich in color, only emphasized it. Her eyes were sharp but framed by long eyelashes only a few shades darker than her natural hair. Her makeup would be light as usual but she would make sure her lips were tinted a dark cherry red that day.

Livia would no longer be seen as a child. An innocent sweet pink would not do.

She would look stunning.

No, she did look stunning. Her debutante was painstakingly planned just as she had envisioned it, down to the color of her lips. And just as she practiced, Livia floats into the room with a delicate grace, and everyone had stopped in their tracks to stare. She soaks up the attention like a dried sponge stranded in the middle of a desert.

No doubt it should have been the beginning of the best night of her life. A milestone.

So, why did she have to watch as her fiancée escort a girl that clearly wasn’t herself at her own party? Why did she have to stand by with wide eyes, and a gaping mouth as they pass her by without a glance? It was too great of an insult to ignore. Not that she had intended to ever take the higher ground in the first place, but still.

It seems her guest are just as baffled as her, but they are quick to comment on how lovely the newly arrived couple look together and shoot snide looks her way. Even her supposed friends giggle among themselves.

But that is aristocracy for you.

Everyone is always eager for live entertainment. And what is no better thing to witness than one of their own being shamed so publicly? Who wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to drag down a rival or an eyesore? Even better if it makes you look better and rises you in the eyes of others. So, the murmurs grew, and all eyes swivel to her.

The atmosphere is quickly turning against her.

Pushing down her humiliation and embarrassment, Livia focuses on her anger. Her pretty face twists into a scowl as she drops the arm she had expected the crown prince to take. She had been announced just as planned and had stood at the center of attention when the crown prince and that dull girl had made their appearance.

Everyone had a full view of her expression.

She figures she has nothing left to lose after the fact. She would make sure the tide would return back to her favor. After all, she was still the crown prince's fiancée. Prince Rodale couldn't stand by that girl's side all night. Not if he wished to avoid insulting the Valentine's.

Livia quickly smooths out her expression and primly takes the steps down to the party by herself. As tempted as she was to rage and throw a fit, she was no longer a girl. That behavior will not be excusable. At least not anymore. So instead she puts on a polite smile and calmly approaches the two.

Stolen novel; please report.

She bows properly towards the crown prince in greeting, “Thank you for attending my debutante, your highness. It is an honor.”

Though why you decided to come on the arm of that dullard...

The smile is still firmly in place even as Livia turns to greet the girl, “Miss Amelia, I am glad to see you were able to make it as well.”

Amelia Margret Reeve smiles back, bright and sunny as ever, “Yes, thank you for inviting me, Miss Livia. Your house is truly beautiful and so are you!” She says. As if she wasn’t speaking to the very woman who had bullied and mocked her days before. And Miss Livia? It shouldn't come as a surprise, but it was still grating.

Livia's eye twitches, but she holds the smile, nods a bit, and turns back to the crown prince in expectation. She isn’t fazed when cold blue eyes look down on her. She doesn’t even flinch. After all, this boy had never looked upon her with fondness. Not since she destroyed his favorite toy when they were children.

Once, long ago, he had smiled and was even kind. But that time is long past.

I made sure of that, didn’t I?

Even still, he had a duty to her. They both had roles to play.

With obvious reluctance, he removes his arm from the girl and offers it to Livia. She takes it. Her smile widens when Amelia blinks in confusion as she looks between the two of them.

The girl is as dense as a brick. Her upbringing always shows through at times like these. Honestly, how dumb can she be?

“Miss Livia, if I may have this dance?” Crown Prince Rodale gets straight to the point and starts to guide Livia to the middle of the ballroom before she can even reply.

She frowns a bit at his rudeness (She was a lady now, not a miss) but follows him anyway. She makes sure to turn back to watch the expression on Amelia’s face.

Amelia’s light blue eyes are round as they stare at the Crown Prince back. For a second, she looks utterly lost in the crowd. Her long pink hair flutters lightly as Amelia takes a step forward, her hand coming up as if she was about to reach out before she stops herself. She looks embarrassed and her gaze finds the floor. There is a gap between her in the rest of the guests. They are curious about her, sure, but not curious enough to be caught approaching someone of such low status. She was alone, and the only person who bothered to pay her any mind had just walked away.

She looks like she is about to cry. Poor thing.

Livia ignores how unsarcastic that thought was.

A large hand circles her waist, bringing her attention back to the crown prince. The music picks back up as she places her hand on Prince Rodale's shoulder. He doesn’t pull her closer, in fact, he keeps as much distance between their bodies without coming off as rude. Livia should be offended, but she isn’t.

He’s only a boy. What interest do I have in him anyway?

Her brows wrinkle at the thought. They were the same age. What was she even thinking about?

“My those two are perfect for each other,” A woman says loudly in the crowd.

“Yes, King Grail chose the crown prince fiancé well. No doubt Lady Livia has gotten the proper education unlike some,” An older woman says, her eyes on Amelia.

“Lady Livia is perfect for his highness. Anyone else is just deluding themselves.”

That was Maria, one of Livia’s many friends.

“Honestly, what kind of shameless thing walks in on the arm of his highness knowing full well that he is already engaged to Lady Livia?”

Madeline's voice carried even over the music, another friend.

Livia's lips twitch.

The tide has turned.

From the corner of her eye, Livia watches as Amelia shrinks in on herself before making a hasty retreat to the empty buffet table on the other side of the room, her face red.

To her irritation, the prince's head turns to watch her go, his eyebrows creasing.

“Your highness, am I boring you?” Livia barely resists digging her nails into his strong shoulder. The last time she did that to a dancing partner, her mother went ballistic and the punishment was not worth the few seconds of satisfaction.

“Of course not, Miss Livia.” The words were spoken automatically and without a hint of sincerity. The Prince's eyes still follow the girl, and not once did they flicker away, even when he was talking to her.

That, more than anything, is what pissed her off.

The girl had barely entered the Academy this year, and in a matter of weeks, she had snatched the attention of Livia’s untouchable and unflappable fiancée. The moment she walked into the room; Amelia is all he could see. Even when he was in the middle of a conversation with Livia. It was grating. It was rude. It was unfair.

Livia wasn’t in love with the crown prince. Livia had no idea what the hell love had anything to do with honoring the contract their parents had written up and agreed on for the future of the country. Couldn’t that foolish Crown Prince Rodale see that some things were more important? This has nothing to do with Livia, or even him, but the kingdom of Wisteria as a whole.

She would admit that she was a selfish bitch who only looked after her own wellbeing. She would admit to being petty, arrogant, and all the above, but even she knew where to draw the line. Unlike the crown prince, she didn’t have the luxury of failing. Either she succeeded or she hanged herself in atonement for failing her family. She had literally been born for the sole sake of becoming the fiancée of his highness. Her own mother would have killed her in the womb if she couldn’t have been of later use; worth the trouble and high risk of pregnancy.

Livia had thought, out of everyone, Crown Prince Rodale had understood. His own upbringing was similar to hers. They were both tools.

But then Amelia Margret Reeve had shown up, and suddenly nothing mattered but her.

And just like that, the first dance between the crown prince and his fiancé comes to an unclimactic end. The crowd claps politely as the two of them part after bowing respectfully before they brush past each other like strangers.