Lorenzo looked at me with contempt.

“You should be thrilled that Vanessa even allows you to see me every day. Go ahead, get on your knees and thank her for her generosity.”

A few small-time businessmen around him immediately chimed in to flatter him.

“Oh, Mr. Nichols and his wife are showing you such mercy, letting you stay by their side. You should kneel down and show your gratitude.”

“Better to serve Mr. Nichols as a personal assistant than to end up selling yourself to some old man out there.”

“Mr. Nichols, you should get her checked out first. Who knows what kind of diseases she might be carrying?”

I stared at Lorenzo coldly.

He and I were once engaged in a powerful family alliance. While we weren’t madly in love, we’d grown up as childhood sweethearts, knowing each other inside and out.

At eighteen, Lorenzo knelt before me with a bouquet of flowers and told me I was the one he wanted to grow old with.

I had looked forward to marrying him with all my heart.

But then he fell for the very girl I had been sponsoring.

“She’s been through too much,” he said. “She has no one. She needs someone to take care of her.”

He even threw himself off a three-meter-high wedding stage just to fake some reincarnation nonsense, pretending to have lost his memory.

I was foolish enough to believe he’d really suffered a brain injury. From overseas, I sent him comforting letters every day and sought out world-renowned experts to treat him.

Then one day, Vanessa sent me a voice recording.

“Loren, you hit your head for me and lied to Danna, saying you lost your memory. I feel so bad. If I’d known, I would’ve told you to just marry her.”

“Hah! For you, I’d do more than hit my head—I’d die under you if you wanted. You’re so sweet, so soft while Danna is like a dead fish. She’s not even fit to make your bed.”

“Just look at the letters she sends me—groveling, clinging to me. Since she’s that cheap, once we’re married, I’ll tell her I ‘regained my memory’ and have her be our surrogate. Saves you the pain of pregnancy.”

“Loren, you’re so bad!”

“What can I do? If you get pregnant, I can’t touch you for ten months. That will kill me. She’s just a trash anyway. Might as well use her. After all, she’s obsessed with me.”

Then came the sound of moaning—utterly shameless.

My heart clenched. So was this the truth behind our two decades of shared childhood? Our years of friendship couldn’t even compare to a few nights of lust.

As the people around mocked me and flattered him, Lorenzo’s eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction.

I lifted my chin and said coldly, “Lorenzo, find yourself another personal assistant. I’m already married—and I have twin sons.”

With that, the crowd finally looked over at the two fair, chubby little boys and froze in stunned silence.

Lorenzo frowned, clearly impatient. “You really had kids? Who’s the father—a thug? A drifter?”

“Don’t tell me you dragged out some random children just to make a point. I still have those forty-eight love letters you sent me from abroad. You expect me to believe you had the heart to marry someone else and have his children?”

“You think I’d actually be jealous?”

I gave it a moment’s thought, then calmly pulled out a family heirloom from the Charles lineage—a ring set with a large emerald.

“My husband is Prince Charles of France. Not some thug or playboy—but the younger brother of King Charles VIII himself,” I intoned coldly.

Anyone with even the slightest knowledge of global affairs knew: Charles was the king’s most beloved brother, holding control over international trade and foreign commerce.

For the past four years of our marriage, he’d showered me with affection, but for my safety, he had never allowed my identity to be made public.

Vanessa finally straightened up, snatching the ring from my hand.

“There really is an iris flower engraved on it... and a tiny royal crest.” She sneered. “Are you trying to say that just because of this, you’re the Princess of France?”

“Well then, I’ll go make a few of these too—maybe ten or eight—and start calling myself Her Royal Highness, Queen of France.”

Vanessa's words sent the crowd into an uproar of laughter, her face glowing with pride.

“Danna, have you gone insane dreaming about marrying the richest man in New York? Now you're even making up stories about marrying a prince?”

“Do you know that even Loren doesn’t have the qualifications to meet Prince Charles face-to-face? He heard the prince was visiting New York and begged the mayor for an introduction six months in advance. He’s been collecting rare treasures from all over the world just for the chance to impress him. I heard the prince dotes on his wife so much, he even spent a hundred million bidding for the Queen’s coming-of-age necklace to gift her.”

“And you dare to make up such outrageous lies, tarnishing the prince’s name? Is this because you’re jealous that Loren doesn’t want you? Are you trying to sabotage his big opportunity?”

The moment her words landed, Lorenzo’s expression darkened. Without warning, he slapped me hard across the face, sending me crashing to the ground.

“You filthy wretch. I didn’t think you could be this malicious. Just to satisfy your sick jealousy, you’re willing to ruin me like this? Prince Charles is nobility—why would he ever touch a trash like you?”

Vanessa clung to Lorenzo, her voice was laced with concern.

“Loren, your ex-fiancée is so jealous she’s pretending to be the princess? If the prince finds out, he might think you have poor taste. Would he still be willing to work with us after that?”

Impersonating royalty—what a joke. I glared at Vanessa, who once cowered like a frightened rabbit.

I remembered when she worked as a server in a hotel. One night, a drunk guest tried to drag her into the bathroom. She nearly lost everything.

Out of pity for her—an orphan with no one—I stepped in. I offered to pay for her tuition and living expenses so she could focus on school. I treated her like a sister, bought her clothes, invited her to live in my home and dine at my table.

Back then, Lorenzo warned me, “You’re too soft-hearted. Poor people can be insecure and vengeful. Don’t end up raising a snake.”

But now, he believed every poisonous word out of that snake’s mouth and hurled insults at me like I was nothing.

Lorenzo suddenly kicked me in the stomach, hard.

"I've indulged you far too long, letting you fixate on me. But today, it's time you learned your place—and gave up.”

He yanked me up by the hair and slapped me twice across the face.

Maybe realizing it looked bad for a man of his status to beat a woman, he paused, then turned to Vanessa.

“Vanessa, didn’t Danna used to boss you around just because she had money? Made you wash her underwear, massage her feet? Today, your husband’s got your back. Go on—get even.”

He shoved me down again, pinning me so she could strike.

Vanessa hesitated at first, but then her eyes sparkled with glee.

“Danna, why did you get to live so high and mighty? Why did you get to order me around? I’m smarter than you, prettier than you. So why did you get to live a privileged life while I had to beg for scraps?”

With that, she landed several vicious slaps across my face.

My cheeks burned with searing pain.

Aaron and Arthur, my twin sons, were frozen in shock. They had never seen violence like this. From birth to age three, they’d been surrounded by love and cared for by maids. This was their first taste of brutality.

They burst into tears and threw themselves at me, crying, “Mommy!”

Vanessa grabbed Aaron and smacked his fair little cheeks twice before tossing him to the floor like garbage.

Lorenzo seized Arthur and kicked him three meters across the room.

“Filthy bastards. Send them to an orphanage later.”

Arthur curled up on the ground in pain, sobbing, “Mom...”

The boys began crawling toward me on their hands and knees, inching forward with desperate cries.

But the onlookers only jeered. Some kicked the children like sport. One man yanked Arthur up by the hair.

“Well, well—green eyes? Guess the bastard’s foreign. Bet the father’s some French guy.”

Then he scoffed and hurled Arthur away like he was nothing.

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose in disgust and delivered another brutal kick to Arthur’s small body, sending him flying.

Arthur’s small body crashed into the champagne tower. In an instant, the pyramid of glass flutes came tumbling down. Shards of crystal rained around him. He stood frozen for a moment, then slowly collapsed, blood spreading across his face.

A scream tore from my throat. “Arthur!”

I fought to crawl toward him, desperate to hold him in my arms.

Arthur struggled to lift his head, eyes searching for mine—then his little arms dropped, and he lay still on the ground.

Lorenzo stomped on my back, grinding his heel into my waist with contempt.

“All this over a bastard child? If you’re too shameless to learn your lesson, I’ll make sure you do today.”

He turned to Vanessa and ordered coldly, “Strip her.”

“She wants to seduce men? Let everyone see just what kind of filth she is.”

He yanked me up by the hair and forced me to stand, leaving me in only my undergarments, exposed to the crowd.

He pinched the flesh of my waist, his voice mocking. “Disgusting. Just look at this body. And you claim to be some royal princess? Even I’m repulsed.”

Vanessa dug her nails into my skin, pinching hard with every word. “We’re doing this for your own good, Danna. Maybe now you’ll learn a little shame. Maybe you’ll stop acting so high and mighty.”

My arms, my chest, were covered in purple bruises. My face felt like it was on fire, swollen and throbbing with pain.

Through my barely open eyes, I could still see Arthur lying motionless. I didn’t care about my own humiliation, my own wounds—I only had one thought: I had to save my son.

“Lorenzo,” I begged, “Arthur is really Prince Charles’s son. Please, you have to save him!”

“If something happens to him, the whole of New York will pay the price!”

Instead of softening, Lorenzo’s fury exploded. He grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it into my body.

“You just won’t give up, will you? Still using that bastard child to drag His Highness down? You filthy liar! Today I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

The chair shattered against my leg with a deafening crack. Pain lanced through me, and my vision blurred.

I nearly passed out, so I bit my tongue hard, forcing myself to stay awake.

Arthur was unconscious while Aaron was sobbing, calling for me.

I dropped to my knees in front of Lorenzo, slamming my forehead into the floor over and over.

“It’s all my fault,” I cried. “I should never have wanted you. I was lowly, foolish. Please, please just save my child!”

He kicked me aside with disgust.

“Now you’re sorry? Now you feel ashamed? You think begging like a dog will fix this?”

I shook my head frantically. “I won’t ever do it again. Please, for the sake of our past friendship, save him!”

Lorenzo gave a cold snort and slowly pulled out his phone, as if finally about to call for help.

But Vanessa snatched it away.

“Loren, why save a bastard?” she said sweetly.

“If the prince hears someone is pretending to be his son—and you helped, he would think you’re involved in the scam. He’ll never forgive you.”

Lorenzo’s eyes grew dark. He turned to her, then pulled her into his arms. “Baby, you’re right. We can’t risk that kind of trouble.”

Blood was still trickling from Arthur’s forehead, pooling beneath him. My heart clenched with fear.

I turned and grabbed Vanessa’s skirt.

“Vanessa, no matter what you think of me, the child is innocent. I’m begging you, please save him. I’ll kneel, I’ll do anything—just please.”

Vanessa grinned wickedly and gripped my chin. “Now you know how to beg?”

“Where’s that arrogant princess of New York now? Look at you, groveling like a stray dog. Pathetic.”

I knew she wouldn't stop until she'd thoroughly humiliated me. Charles and the mayor had gone to inspect the event site—who knew when they’d return? Every second wasted might cost Arthur his life.

Desperation consumed me.

I fell flat to the ground, wagged my head like a dog, and barked twice.

“You're right, Mrs. Nichols,” I choked out through tears. “I’m nothing but a dog. A shameless, filthy bitch. Please... I’m begging you. Let me go.”

I didn’t know whether it was the title "Mrs. Nichols" that pleased her, or the pitiful sight of me on the floor that finally satisfied her—but Vanessa let out a delighted, mocking laugh behind her manicured fingers.

“Oh my, the once-proud little princess of New York is now my pet? I almost don’t deserve such honor.”

Lorenzo laughed with approval as well. “Vanessa, you were always born noble and beautiful. It was fate that you ended up among the lower class. But soon, you'll be the most powerful lady in the country.”

Finally appeased, Vanessa casually picked up a broken chair leg. A long, rusty nail stuck out from the end—sharp and jagged.

“Danna,” she said with malicious glee, “cut up that pretty face of yours right now, and I’ll call an ambulance for your son.”

She tossed the chair leg at my feet.

I stared at the thick iron nail, nearly ten centimeters long. Then I looked up at the triumphant smiles on their faces.

Someone in the crowd, unable to stomach it any longer, muttered a protest.

“Mr. Nichols... that’s enough. If the Prince arrives and sees this kind of scene, it won’t look good for anyone.”

Vanessa scoffed. “Mr. Schumann, you don’t know what Danna is really like. She's a filthy flirt, throwing herself at any man with money. I’m doing this for her own good—so she doesn’t embarrass all women with her scandals.”

Without warning, she lunged and pressed the iron nail to my cheek. A sharp sting shot through me, followed by the white-hot agony of torn skin. Blood gushed out instantly, dripping down to the marble floor in steady beats.

Someone gasped audibly.

“That’s deep... her face is ruined.”

But Vanessa wasn’t done. Her expression twisted with cruelty as she yanked out the nail and raised it again to strike.

I shut my eyes in terror, screaming inside with despair.

“Charles... when will you come? Please, save our son...”

Suddenly, the double doors burst open with a loud bang.

A powerful voice boomed across the hall, silencing the crowd.

“His Royal Highness Prince Charles has arrived!”