Chapter 4: The Price of the Crown

In front of everyone, I cried.

Grant and I—childhood sweethearts, as close as honey.

Since I was young, I was his shadow: following him to learn languages, business, horseback riding, wine tasting.

I never had hobbies of my own.

Grant’s interests became Natalie Sullivan’s interests.

Sometimes, I wondered if I even liked horseback riding, or if I’d just wanted to ride beside him through those moss-draped trails. I could recite wine varietals and investment theories as well as any of the city’s elite sons, but deep down, I wasn’t sure which dreams were mine. Maybe I’d never learned what I liked, only what looked good beside Grant. That emptiness felt heavier than any diamond ring.

The businesses of the Peterson and Sullivan families had been deeply intertwined since our fathers’ generation.

So, everyone took it for granted that Grant and I would marry.

The only surprise was probably in our sophomore year of high school, when Allison Foster transferred into our class as a scholarship student from a poor family.

She was like a delicate white flower blooming among ruins—fragile, yet resilient—easily stirring Grant’s sympathy.

The first stirrings of young love were snuffed out by Uncle Peterson.

No matter how much Grant protested, Allison was sent away by Uncle Peterson.

Grant lost all contact with her.

After that, he grew silent.

He matured quickly in that silence, eventually shouldering the Peterson Group’s responsibilities.

When he proposed to me, I asked him: If Allison came back, what would you choose?

He looked at me, his eyes deep and unwavering.

“Natalie, she’s just a passing interlude.”

“Mrs. Peterson will only ever be you.”

The kiss he left on my eyes that day seemed to linger with warmth, but in a blink, everything had changed.