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Comrade 11

Comrade 11

CHAPTER 11

Jul 11, 2025

“Evangeline,” Sebastian’s deep, commanding voice cut through the festive music and laughter of the Harvest Moon Festival, stopping her in her tracks like a sword thrust. She froze, clutching Marcus and Adrian’s small hands tightly in her own. “We need to speak. Immediately.”

Evangeline straightened her shoulders and turned to face him, drawing upon every lesson in royal deportment she had ever received.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as her emerald eyes met his piercing blue gaze.

He looked exactly as she remembered—tall, imposing, and devastatingly handsome in his midnight blue doublet adorned with the royal coat of arms.

But his intense stare wasn’t focused on her face. It was locked upon the two young boys who instinctively sought shelter behind her silk skirts.

“I have nothing to discuss with you, Your Highness,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear that ran through her. “If you will excuse me.”

But Sebastian stepped directly into her path, his towering presence blocking any hope of escape. The authority radiating from him was unmistakable—this was a man accustomed to being obeyed without question.

Yet Evangeline’s pride had never allowed her to be intimidated by his royal bearing, and it would not fail her now. Still, the fire burning in his eyes made her chest constrict with old, familiar pain.

“Do not attempt to deceive me, Evangeline,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. His gaze flickered down to the boys before returning to her face, blazing with suspicion and something deeper. “Who are these children?”

Evangeline’s grip tightened protectively on Adrian’s small fingers, and she stepped forward like a lioness defending her cubs. “They are none of your concern,” she snapped, her tone cold enough to freeze summer wine. “Now stand aside.”

“The devil they aren’t my concern.” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, low enough that the children wouldn’t comprehend but sharp enough to pierce through her carefully constructed defenses. “Those boys… they bear my likeness exactly.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, her resolve wavering for just a heartbeat before she forced herself to stand firm. “Don’t be absurd, Sebastian,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and collected as possible. “The world does not revolve around your royal person. Not every dark-haired child with blue eyes belongs to you.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and a muscle in his jaw twitched with barely contained emotion. “Do not lie to me, Evangeline. I can see the truth written in their very faces. The way they hold themselves… the way they move… I know.”

She refused to meet his penetrating gaze, focusing instead on Marcus, who was tugging at her hand with obvious nervousness. “Come along, boys,” she said, attempting to guide them past Sebastian’s imposing figure. “Let us find Uncle Alexandro.”

But Sebastian’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist—not with force, but with enough pressure to halt her escape.

She glared at him, her entire body tense with barely suppressed fury. “Release me this instant, Sebastian,” she hissed.

“Not until you tell me the truth.” His voice softened slightly, but an edge of desperate pleading crept into his tone. “Evangeline… are they mine?”

Her heart felt as though it might shatter, but she refused to let him witness the tempest raging within her soul.

She wrenched her arm free with regal dignity and stood tall, her chin lifting in defiant challenge. “No,” she said with arctic coldness. “They are not.”

Sebastian’s handsome features hardened into a mask of stone, but his eyes betrayed the wound her words had inflicted. “You expect me to believe such an obvious falsehood?”

“I care nothing for what you choose to believe,” Evangeline shot back, her voice rising before she caught herself. Marcus and Adrian flinched at her tone, and she immediately softened, crouching down to their eye level. “It’s perfectly fine, my darlings. Let us go.”

Marcus clung to her leg, while Adrian peeked out at Sebastian with wide, curious eyes that were heartbreakingly familiar. “Mama, why is the prince angry?” Adrian whispered.

Evangeline’s chest tightened as she stroked his dark hair. “He is not angry, sweetheart. He is simply… confused.”

Sebastian suddenly crouched down, bringing himself to the children’s level.

Adrian stared back at him without fear, though with obvious caution.

“What is your name, young sir?” Sebastian asked, his voice gentle despite the storm raging within him.

“Adrian,” the boy answered after a moment’s hesitation, his voice quiet but clear.

Sebastian’s throat constricted as he glanced at Marcus. “And you?” he asked, his tone growing even softer.

“Marcus,” the older boy replied, hiding behind Evangeline but allowing himself to peek out just enough to meet Sebastian’s intense gaze.

His voice carried more confidence than his brother’s, but there was a hint of shyness that tugged at Sebastian’s very soul.

Evangeline stepped between them immediately, her maternal instincts blazing. “Enough, Sebastian,” she snapped. “Leave them be.”

But Sebastian rose to his full height, towering over her once again. Evangeline felt her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack, but she clung to her composure with iron determination.

“I owe you no explanations,” she said. “You forfeited any right to know anything about me or my children five years ago when you cast us aside for your mistress.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he remained silent.

Evangeline seized the opportunity to guide the boys away, her hands trembling as she held onto them.

She did not look back, though she could feel Sebastian’s burning gaze following her every step.

He turned to leave but stopped when he noticed Adrian’s small velvet cloak lying forgotten on a marble bench.

Frowning, he picked it up, intending to return it to the boys’ nursemaid. But as he lifted the garment, a small piece of parchment fell from its pocket.

He bent to retrieve it, his breath catching in his throat as he unfolded the paper.

It was a child’s drawing in charcoal and colored chalk—simple but unmistakably clear. A royal family.

Two small figures in crowns, one slightly larger figure labeled “Mama,” and the tallest figure wearing a crown and bearing an unmistakable resemblance to himself, carefully labeled “Papa.”

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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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