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Comrade 9

Comrade 9

CHAPTER 9

Jul 11, 2025

Five Years Later

The evening air buzzed with excitement as the Harvest Moon Festival drew near.

Golden lanterns swayed in the mountain breeze, casting dancing shadows across the courtyard of Duke Alexandro’s castle.

The ancient stone walls echoed with the sounds of preparation as servants rushed about their work.

Evangeline moved gracefully between the long oak tables, making sure every detail was perfect—silk banners hung just right, platters of roasted meats arranged beautifully, and goblets of the finest wine positioned exactly where they should be.

The festival was a beloved tradition in the Duchy of Meridia, and she was determined to make it unforgettable for all the noble guests who would attend.

Her brother, Duke Alexandro, appeared beside her, a proud smile lighting up his weathered face as he looked over the elaborate preparations.

Five years had passed since she’d arrived at his castle, and in that time, he had proven to be not only her protector but her dearest friend.

“You’ve outdone yourself, sister,” Alexandro said, his deep voice filled with genuine admiration. He stood tall and imposing in his ceremonial doublet, yet there was unmistakable tenderness in his dark eyes when he looked at her. “The Great Hall has never looked more magnificent.”

Evangeline smiled warmly, her fingers smoothing the rich fabric of the table covering. “I just want to make sure you have a wonderful evening, brother. You’ve been hiding away in your tower study for weeks, buried under correspondence and ledgers.”

She winked playfully, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief.

Alexandro shifted uncomfortably, a slight flush creeping across his noble features. “Don’t start with your matchmaking schemes,” he muttered, glancing away toward the torchlit battlements. “I have no interest in romantic entanglements right now.”

Evangeline raised an elegant eyebrow, her smile becoming more teasing. “Of course not. But tonight brings noble ladies from across the realm. Perhaps fate will step in, and you’ll find love again.”

His expression hardened, his eyes growing distant with old pain. “Don’t joke about such things, Evangeline.”

She immediately grew serious, recognizing the familiar shadow that crossed his features.

She knew the tragic story of his beloved wife, the duchess who had died in childbirth along with their infant son.

The loss had changed him from a cheerful lord into a solitary figure who threw himself into governing his duchy with relentless dedication.

“Forgive me,” she said gently, placing a sisterly hand on his arm. “I only speak from hope for your happiness. You’ve endured enough sorrow, dear brother. You deserve another chance at love.”

Alexandro met her concerned gaze, but his response was interrupted by the arrival of one of the castle’s messengers. The young man approached quickly, his boots clicking against the stone floors as he bowed deeply before his lord.

“Your Grace,” the messenger announced, slightly breathless from his hurry. “An urgent message has arrived. Prince Sebastian of Valdris has sent his acceptance of your festival invitation, along with his father’s blessing.”

Evangeline’s heart dropped into her stomach as though she had been struck by lightning. The golden goblet she had been adjusting slipped from her nerveless fingers, clattering against the stone floor.

Sebastian.

The name she had spent five years trying to forget, the name that still haunted her dreams and waking thoughts.

Her carefully built world began to crumble around her as panic surged through her veins like wildfire.

Before she could control her reaction, she turned and fled toward the castle’s interior, her silk slippers silent against the polished floors as she ran through corridors she knew by heart.

“Evangeline!” Alexandro called after her, alarm clear in his voice, but she was already disappearing up the winding staircase toward the nursery.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed open the heavy oak door to her children’s chambers.

Her heart both soared and ached as she saw them playing contentedly with their wooden toys, two beautiful five-year-old boys with dark hair that gleamed like polished obsidian and piercing blue eyes that were unmistakably familiar.

Marcus and Adrian, her precious twins, were the perfect image of their father.

Every aristocratic line of their faces, every proud tilt of their chins, every graceful movement reminded her of Sebastian.

She had managed to keep their parentage secret for five years, but she knew that anyone who had known Sebastian would recognize them instantly.

Evangeline forced a trembling smile, desperately trying to hide the terror clawing at her chest.

The boys looked up at her with innocent curiosity, their young faces unmarked by the complexities of their birth.

“Mama?” Marcus asked, his voice sweet and concerned. “Why do you look sad?”

“I’m not sad, my darling,” she whispered, kneeling to embrace them both. “Mama just wanted to see her precious boys.”

Just as she was preparing to leave the nursery, she heard familiar footsteps in the corridor.

Alexandro appeared in the doorway, his expression shifting from confusion to growing concern as he took in her obvious distress.

“Evangeline, what’s happened? Why are you so frightened?”

She wiped away her tears hastily, but they continued to fall despite her efforts.

Her hands shook as she struggled to find words that could explain the magnitude of her fear.

“Please, Alexandro,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the children’s quiet play. “You must promise me something. When Prince Sebastian arrives for the festival, don’t let him see me. Don’t let him anywhere near the children. Please, I beg of you.”

Alexandro’s expression transformed as understanding began to dawn.

His keen eyes moved from her tear-stained face to the two young boys who continued playing innocently, and she watched as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his mind.

“Prince Sebastian… of Valdris…” he said slowly, his voice heavy with realization. “He’s their father, isn’t he?”

Evangeline nodded through her sobs, unable to speak the words aloud.

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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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