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Comrade 39

Comrade 39

Felicia paced in her room, her mind racing with the old woman’s cryptic warning.

“You will have the same fate as her.”

Who was her?

It wasn’t the first time the woman had said it. Since her arrival at Silverstone Pack, the old lady had repeated the phrase, always looking at her with those clouded eyes, as if she was seeing someone else standing in her place.

Felicia shivered.

She needed answers.

Her instincts whispered that Lucien knew something, something he hadn’t told her.

And there was only one way to find out.

The packhouse was quiet, most of the warriors outside doing their rounds, Lucien still occupied with the night patrols. It was now or never.

Felicia moved through the dimly lit halls with careful steps, her breath shallow as she approached Lucien’s office.

She hesitated at the door, listening for any movement. When she heard nothing, she pushed it open and slipped inside.

The office smelled of aged leather, ink, and something undeniably Lucien—a mix of pinewood and a faint, lingering spice. The large oak desk was covered in maps, reports, and scattered notes, but Felicia’s eyes were drawn to the tall wooden cabinet in the corner.

If Lucien was hiding something, it would be there.

She opened the cabinet quietly, her fingers trembling slightly. Inside, a row of notebooks and old documents sat neatly stacked.

Felicia ran her fingers along the worn edges of a black leather notebook, one that looked older than the rest.

Her gut told her this was it.

She pulled it out and flipped it open, her breath catching when a few photographs slipped out and fluttered to the floor.

Felicia’s heart pounded as she bent down to pick them up.

The first was of a woman.

A beautiful woman with long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a soft but haunting expression.

The second was a picture of Lucien standing beside her, his arm loosely draped around her shoulders. They looked close. Too close.

Felicia’s stomach tightened. Who was she?

She scanned the writing inside the notebook, her eyes darting over scribbled notes and dates.

1999 – The Beginning

2002 – The Ceremony

2003 – The Bond Strengthens

2005 – The Betrayal

2006 – The Disappearance

Felicia’s pulse spiked. Disappearance?

Before she could turn the page, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Her stomach dropped.

She froze, listening, her mind scrambling for a way out.

Lucien.

She recognized the sound of his steps instantly.

Panic surged through her. She didn’t have time to put the book back—she had to hide it.

Without thinking, she tucked the notebook and photos into the folds of her dress, pressing them against her waist. The fabric was thick enough that it wouldn’t be obvious, but her heartbeat was so loud she was afraid he could hear it.

The door swung open.

Lucien stepped inside, his tall frame blocking the exit, his dark eyes narrowing immediately.

“What are you doing in this hallway?” he asked, his voice low and suspicious.

Felicia forced herself to breathe evenly, trying not to look guilty.

“I—I was just…” she trailed off, her mind racing.

Lucien’s gaze lowered slightly, lingering on the strange little bulk in her dress.

Felicia’s blood turned cold.

He knew.

His sharp wolf instincts were too good—he had noticed it immediately.

For a second, he said nothing, just taking a slow, measured step forward, his eyes locked onto her like a predator who knew his prey was hiding something.

She had to do something. Fast.

Felicia’s heart slammed against her ribs as she acted on pure impulse.

She grabbed Lucien by the collar—

—and kissed him.

Lucien stiffened instantly, his entire body going rigid.

Felicia poured everything into the kiss, desperate to distract him, to make him forget whatever he had noticed.

Lucien didn’t pull away.

In fact, after a brief second of shock, he did the opposite.

His hand shot to the small of her back, pulling her closer, his lips suddenly demanding and consuming.

Comrade

Comrade

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type:
Comrade Summary & Review: Comrade

Princess Evangeline of Morwyn sat in the quiet waiting room of the royal physician’s office, her mind a whirlwind of fear and fragile hope. The grand palace, bathed in soft afternoon light, felt both like a home and a cage. She had been married to Crown Prince Sebastian of Valdris for three years, but their union was nothing more than a political arrangement—an alliance forged by their fathers to secure peace between their lands.

From the very beginning, Sebastian made it clear that his marriage to Evangeline was purely out of duty, not affection. They slept in separate chambers, exchanged only polite words in public, and maintained a cold civility that masked the emptiness beneath. Evangeline had once dreamed that time might change things, that she might earn his heart, but years of distance had buried that hope deep inside her.

Recently, however, her body had begun to change. She felt nauseated in the mornings, dizzy, and uncommonly tired. These signs, though subtle, stirred a small flame of longing within her—a desperate wish that she might finally be carrying his child. Perhaps, she thought, a baby could soften Sebastian’s heart and give meaning to their lifeless marriage.

When the physician, Master Aldrich, appeared at the doorway, his kind smile gave her both comfort and dread. He led her into his study, a cozy room filled with the scent of herbs, the warmth of a crackling fire, and shelves of ancient medical texts. Evangeline sat nervously as the old man took a sealed parchment from his desk.

With a gentle voice, Master Aldrich delivered the news that would change everything: “Your Highness, I’m delighted to tell you that you are indeed expecting.”

Evangeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her trembling hands broke the royal seal and scanned the words written neatly across the parchment. Pregnant. She was truly with child. Before she could even absorb the shock, Master Aldrich continued, beaming with joy—she was not carrying just one baby, but twins.

The revelation sent a rush of emotion through her—relief, disbelief, joy. Twins! Two heirs for the royal family. The weight of that realization made her dizzy, but it also filled her with warmth and purpose. For the first time in years, she smiled with genuine happiness. Perhaps this was the miracle she needed to mend what had long been broken.

In that moment, she imagined Sebastian’s face lighting up with pride and excitement. She pictured him embracing her, maybe even thanking her. The thought filled her with renewed courage. She thanked Master Aldrich graciously and insisted that she would tell Sebastian the news herself. This moment, she decided, must belong to them alone.

Walking through the grand marble corridors of the palace, Evangeline’s heart felt light for the first time in years. Servants bowed as she passed, but she hardly noticed them—her mind was focused only on Sebastian and the life growing inside her. She wanted to see him, to share the joy, to believe that maybe, just maybe, love could still bloom between them.

As she approached the door of Sebastian’s private study, her steps quickened. She called out softly, “Sebastian! My lord, I have the most wonderful news to—”

But her voice faltered.

Through the half-open door, Evangeline froze at the sight before her. Her husband stood with Lady Cordelia Ashworth, daughter of the Duke of Greymont, wrapped in his arms. The woman’s fiery red hair cascaded over Sebastian’s shoulders as he held her close. Evangeline’s heart stopped when she saw him tilt Cordelia’s chin upward and press his lips to hers—a tender, passionate kiss filled with the warmth and love she had begged the heavens for all these years.

It was everything she had ever wanted—and it wasn’t hers.

For a long, unbearable second, Evangeline could only stare. The parchment with her pregnancy confirmation still trembled in her hand. Then, in a broken whisper, she said his name: “Sebastian…”

The Crown Prince turned sharply, surprise flashing across his features before being quickly masked by his usual calm. Cordelia paled and stepped back, though Sebastian’s arm lingered protectively around her waist.

“Evangeline,” he said evenly, as though she were a stranger interrupting him, “what brings you here?”

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to stand tall, even as tears burned behind her eyes. “I… I live here,” she managed, her voice quivering. “I’m your wife.”

Sebastian’s cold gaze didn’t soften. “Is there something you need?” he asked, the same way he might address a court official.

Something inside Evangeline broke. Just minutes ago, she had been radiant with hope, ready to tell him that she carried his children—the future of his line. But now, staring at the indifference in his eyes and the woman in his arms, she realized the truth she had avoided for too long.

He would never love her. Not even their unborn children could change that.

A calmness settled over her—a cold, regal resolve that masked the chaos in her chest. Straightening her shoulders, Evangeline met his gaze with all the dignity her title demanded.

“Yes, my lord,” she said clearly. “There is something I need.”

Sebastian raised a brow, perhaps expecting her to plead, to cry, to beg for an explanation. Instead, she spoke words that shattered the silence of the study.

“I want an annulment.”

Both Sebastian and Cordelia froze. The shock in their eyes was almost satisfying. Cordelia gasped aloud, pressing a hand to her mouth, while Sebastian’s expression turned dark and unreadable.

“What did you say?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Evangeline’s chin lifted higher. Her hands no longer trembled. “You heard me perfectly,” she said. “I want our marriage annulled.”

In that instant, the timid princess who had once waited for scraps of affection was gone. What remained was a woman who had found her strength—not through her husband’s love, but through the pain he had caused.

Inside, she knew she carried the next heirs of the throne—his heirs—but she would not allow that to bind her to a man who treated her like a political pawn. She would raise her children with dignity, even if she had to walk away from the palace to do it.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the crackle of the fireplace and the unspoken consequences of her declaration. But Evangeline didn’t wait for a reply. Gathering her skirts, she turned toward the door, her heart broken yet unburdened.

Her steps echoed through the marble halls as she walked away from the man who had never seen her—and toward the freedom she was finally claiming for herself.

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