Five years ago, Jonathan married me with a grand ceremony that made me feel like royalty. I wore a wedding gown that rivaled those of true princesses and the life that followed was nothing short of a dream. He spoiled me relentlessly, giving me everything I could have imagined and more. His love seemed boundless and though it had been difficult for us to have children, I was content. I never dared to ask for anything beyond the happiness we shared.

That was until the day he welcomed back Princess Hilton, a woman who had been living among the people, in front of everyone’s eyes. The air at the estate changed in an instant, heavy with the weight of her arrival.

It was only then that I learned the truth—the husband I had believed loved me beyond measure had actually been in love with another woman for many years. And even worse, they already had a child. That boy, now three years old, bore an unmistakable resemblance to Jonathan.

Jonathan stood beside Princess Hilton, gazing at their child with a look of pure affection. As Maria, Jonathan’s mother, held the boy in her arms, cooing at him as he nuzzled into her. The smile on her face was one of triumph, the weight of her family’s future now cradled in her arms.

"My grandson!" Maria exclaimed, her voice filled with pride. "With the blessing of our ancestors, the Bridgerton Family finally has an heir!"

She was so overwhelmed with joy that she nearly stumbled backward, all the while casting covert glances in my direction, her lips curling into a barely concealed smirk. The whole scene unfolded like a cruel play—one that had been rehearsed and I had unknowingly become part of.

Princess Hilton, for her part, stood quietly by Jonathan’s side. There was nothing grand about her demeanor, no royal airs that one might expect from a princess. Instead, she looked more like a concubine, long accustomed to life in the shadows. Her presence was soft, meek even, as if she had long accepted her role in this twisted narrative.

Jonathan, aware of the gravity of his actions and perhaps sensing the storm brewing inside me, attempted to smooth things over. His voice was gentle, but the words stung.

"Lana," he began, his eyes searching mine for understanding, "don’t worry. The princess isn’t difficult to get along with. She has agreed to treat you as a sister, regardless of age."

He paused, his tone shifting slightly, as if preparing me for a deeper betrayal. "But in front of others, I’ll have to ask you to make a small sacrifice. For the sake of the royal family’s face, you’ll need to step back slightly. I hope you can understand her position."

I stood there in silence for a long time, the weight of his words pressing down on me like stones. The vows he once swore under the moonlight seemed to mock me now. He had promised to take no other woman, to love only me and yet here we stood—before a princess, a child and an entire family who had erased me from my own marriage.

Finally, I spoke, my voice cold and sharp like a blade.

"You once promised that I would be your only wife. I’m sorry, but Jonathan, you cannot become a prince consort."

The room went silent. Princess Hilton’s eyes immediately welled with tears. She tried to hide her sobs behind delicate hands, but her sadness filled the space. The child, sensing his mother’s pain, turned to her, his small voice rising in distress.

"Don’t cry, mother. If you cry, Quincy will be sad too…"

Maria’s face twisted in distress as she tried to comfort the child, all the while casting me an accusatory glare. "Good child, don’t cry. As long as Grandma is here, no one will bully your mother!" She then turned her sharp eyes on me, her tone turning cold. "The princess is willing to share a husband with you and yet you’re making trouble!"

But I had already made up my mind. My voice was steady as I repeated, "I said, Jonathan will not marry another woman."

Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked away, never looking back.

Back in the room, Jonathan followed closely behind me. "Lana, are you angry with me?" he asked, his voice soft yet probing.

I felt a wave of bitterness rise in my chest, so thick I couldn’t bring myself to respond. My silence only seemed to irritate him. His tone shifted, tinged with frustration, as he said, "Lana, I know I’ve wronged you, but please—think about me and the Bridgerton Family..."

His words hung in the air, but they felt empty. I remained quiet, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but instead of addressing his plea, I asked calmly, "Do you want me to give up the position of the main wife?" My voice was cold, distant.

Then, I added the question that had been haunting me, my tone sharp, "The child... he looks big. How old is he?"

Jonathan's face stiffened and instead of answering, he slammed the door and stormed out of the room.

It was the first time we had quarreled so bitterly, the first time I had felt such an ugly rift between us. I had always believed our love was built on trust, but now I wondered when he had started to betray me.

Not long after, Roma, my ever-reliable cousin, helped me uncover the truth.

It all began four years ago. Jonathan had been sent south to help control the floods. During his time there, he rescued a woman, Wendy Hilton, who was living among the common folk. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he fell in love. The details of their story, the way he heroically saved her, felt like a cruel parody of my own life, a bitter satire.

Wendy became pregnant and before long, she gave birth to their child. Jonathan arranged for them to live in a secluded courtyard outside the city, hiding them away like secrets he couldn’t bear to share. I stared at the letter in my hands, my eyes lingering on the name of the courtyard: William Jonas— "Pearls and Jade Garden." The name was painfully fitting. They were his pearls and jade, his most treasured possessions, hidden away from the world.

But fate had other plans. A short while ago, Wendy’s residence had been discovered by accident and it was then that Jonathan learned she wasn’t just a common woman—she was Princess Hilton, a royal living in disguise. Now that the truth was out, Jonathan couldn’t keep her hidden any longer. How could he, when his lover was a princess?

So, he brought her and their child into our home, no longer needing to pretend.

It wasn’t long after that Princess Hilton sought me out herself.

When she entered my home, her wide, innocent eyes shone with a dewy mist, like a lost fawn seeking refuge. There was a fragile beauty about her, one that seemed to inspire pity in those around her. She walked into the room with an air of gentle grace and the servants, quick to show deference to her royal status, led her to the main seat.

I, the mistress of the Marquis's Mansion, the wife of Jonathan, could only stand by her side in silence, watching this absurd spectacle unfold. How ironic that the princess, my husband’s mistress, would take my place in my own home.

Her eyes fluttered demurely as she raised her hand to brush her fingertips over her eyebrows—eyebrows that I recognized immediately. They were delicately drawn with Persian snail-shaped black ink, the same rare kind Jonathan had gone to great lengths to procure for me. He had struggled to find even two shades of the ink and I had foolishly believed he had given one to a colleague.

But now I saw the truth clearly. He had saved it, treasured it, not for me, but for her. For the woman he had hidden and cherished these last four years.

The weight of it all crashed down on me, the absurdity of my ignorance pressing on my chest. How had I not realized it before? How had I been so blind to the distance growing between us, to the fact that my husband had fallen for another?

Before I could speak, Princess Hilton had already lowered her head, her expression filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, I’m truly sorry for you," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "Don’t worry, once I marry Jonathan, I’ll live in the princess's mansion. You can treat everything as it was before."

I kept my eyes down, remaining silent. Everything as before? How could she say it so lightly? Did she really believe that my life would go on unchanged while she and her son took their rightful place in Jonathan’s world?

Seeing that I didn’t respond, she moved closer to me, her delicate hand reaching out to gently tug at my sleeve. Her eyes, red like those of a distressed rabbit, shimmered with unshed tears. "Lana," she pleaded softly, "I just want to give my son a home..."

I pulled my arm back sharply. The sudden motion caused her to lose her balance and she swayed slightly on her feet. Just then, a maid entered the room and reported that Jonathan had arrived.

When he entered, his eyes immediately fell on Princess Hilton, who was still unsteady. He only saw her as she began to fall and she looked up at him with those same pitiful eyes, calling out, “Jonathan...” Her voice was filled with such grievance.

Without hesitation, Jonathan rushed forward, crouching down to carefully help her up. His movements were tender and caring, the way they had once been for me. The concern in his eyes was painfully familiar, but now it was directed at her.

"Wendy, why are you sitting on the ground?" he murmured, his tone soft and full of affection. "The floor is cold, get up quickly."

"My dear Jonathan," she said, resting her hand on his arm, "don’t blame your wife. I didn’t sleep all night and I was feeling lightheaded... I must have lost my balance."

Jonathan’s face tightened with concern at her words. He bent down and scooped her into his arms, as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. "I’ll take you back to the mansion," he said, turning to leave.

"Husband!" I called out, my voice sharp. "The princess is not married yet. If you take her away like this, won’t it damage the royal family’s reputation?"

He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he barked orders to the servants. "Prepare the sedan chair!" He spoke with the authority of someone used to being obeyed.

It was only then that he seemed to notice me. Seeing the hardness in my tone, Jonathan placed the princess on the sedan chair, his anger barely concealed. The servants moved quickly, ushering her away, leaving the room feeling colder than it had before.

"Lana..." Jonathan began, stepping toward me.

"Are you blaming me for bullying her?" I asked, my voice cutting through the tension in the room.

Jonathan sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly. "I know you’re not that kind of woman," he said softly, "how could I bear to blame you?" His tone was soothing, but the disconnection between his words and his actions was jarring.

His gaze, tender as it was, felt foreign now. Though his eyes looked at me the same way they always had, everything had changed. I felt a strange sense of loss, as if I were watching the last remnants of my old life slip away before me.

My tough words from earlier faded, replaced by a softer plea. "Why did you hide it from me?"

He hesitated before responding, his voice deep and measured. "I was afraid of hurting you," he said finally. "If it hadn’t come to this, I would never have let her appear before you."

He frowned slightly, as if he truly believed he had done no wrong. To him, it seemed that fate had simply forced his hand, turning the concubine he once tried to shield from me into a princess who could no longer be hidden.

His innocence felt like another blow. He was the same Jonathan who had promised me the world, yet the reality we lived in was one of betrayal. It wasn’t just the royal titles or societal norms that separated us—it was the fact that I was no longer the center of his world.

And despite his apologies and explanations, I knew there was no going back.