I Married the Third Prince

In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman.

After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease.

What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch.

That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload.

My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber.

The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in."

I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?"

Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors.

"Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place."

Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow.

No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.

My dad's gaze swept over me from head to toe before he let out a derisive laugh.

"Who do you think Prince Carlson is? He's royalty! A disfigured wretch like you dares dream of becoming his consort?

"Besides, why would you beg for marriage with a man incapable of producing heirs just for the sake of power? Do you mean to shame the entire Barden family?"

My mom pressed down on his arm, her eyes flickering with a warning.

"If Alicia doesn't go, then what? Do you truly intend to send Maggie instead? The imperial decree has already been issued. This marriage cannot be annulled. Otherwise, it won't just be our reputation at stake—our entire family's lives will be forfeit."

My dad fell silent.

I clenched my fists, the corner of my lips curving into a mocking smile. "I'll marry Prince Carlson, but on one condition."

My dad's eyes narrowed. "Speak."

"The day I wed Prince Carlson, Maggie must publicly confess that it was she who ruined my face."

His expression turned glacial.

"Alicia, what right do you have to bargain with me?"

"No right?" My voice dropped to ice. "Then send Maggie in my place. Gamble the entire family's lives that the eunuch prince won't realize she's already been defiled."

My dad's rage exploded. He raised his hand, ready to strike.

"Impudent! How dare you threaten—"

My mom seized his sleeve, tugging sharply as she whispered, "Alicia has a point. If Prince Carlson were to discover Maggie is no longer untouched…"

I stood motionless, watching coldly as they whispered to one another. My dad's fury gave way to hesitation, and finally, reluctant silence.

At last, he gave his tacit consent.

My mom leaned close, her tone saccharine as she pretended to tidy the stray strands at my temple.

"Alicia darling, we only want what's best for you. With your face… like this…" Her gaze flicked meaningfully to the scar marring my cheek. "To become a princess consort is already an immense blessing."

I recoiled from her touch, my heart sinking into an icy abyss.

These were my birth mother and father. They were willing to throw me into the fire pit without hesitation, just to protect their beloved niece.

As I stepped out of the room, I caught Mom's hushed voice behind me.

"Sending that detestable girl away may be for the best…"

Moonlight poured over the courtyard like silvered water. I stood still, letting the night wind dry the tears at the corners of my eyes.

Ten years. Ever since my cousin, Maggie Barden, was brought into the household after her parents' death, I—the rightful daughter—had become nothing more than a disposable shadow.

They cherished her as though she were priceless, while showing me nothing but indifference.

Even now, after she had scarred my face, they hadn't so much as scolded her.

I drew a veil over my face and walked toward the side chamber.

A breeze carried with it a cloying fragrance, sweet and heavy.

I frowned, my steps halting—just as Nicholas Wendell, my betrothed, emerged from Maggie's room.

His clothes hung disheveled, and the skin of his neck was marked with lingering traces of intimacy.

The moment his gaze met mine, he froze. Panic flickered across his face.