Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 223

Chapter 223: Chapter 223

Kaelen’s POV

Pain.

That was the first thing. A splitting, nauseating pressure behind my eyes, like someone had driven an iron spike through my skull and left it there to rust.

I tried to open my eyes. The light—pale, bluish, filtering through gauze curtains—hit me like a blow. I squeezed them shut again. My mouth tasted of copper and something sweet. Wrong-sweet. Alchemical.

Where—

I forced my eyes open a second time. Blinked. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Smooth plaster, painted a pale blue. Expensive. Modern. Not the palace.

A hotel. One of the high-end establishments in the city, if I had to guess. The kind with private entrances and staff who didn’t ask questions.

I was lying on a bed. Sheets tangled around my legs, rumpled. My chest was bare. My back was bare. I looked down.

Naked.

Completely naked.

My heart kicked hard against my ribs. Once. Twice. Then started hammering in a way that had nothing to do with the headache.

Think. Think.

I reached for the last clear memory. The council chamber. Gareth sitting at the table. That smirk. He’d said Isolde’s name. He’d said—

The smell. Sweet. Cloying. Coating the back of my throat.

Then nothing.

Nothing at all.

A void where hours should have been. Black and absolute, like a door slammed shut in my mind.

I sat up too fast. The room lurched sideways. Bile rose in my throat, and I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead, breathing hard through my teeth.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft, hitching breath. From my left.

I turned.

Seraphine lay on the other side of the bed.

Naked.

Her dark hair was spread across the pillow in a tangled mess. Her face was turned toward me, eyes closed, lashes wet. Tear tracks stained her cheeks. And her body—

My stomach dropped.

Her neck. Her shoulders. Her collarbone. Her chest. Every visible inch of skin was marked. Deep purple bruises. Bite marks—fresh, angry, the kind that broke capillaries and left teeth impressions in swollen flesh. Some of them had broken the skin. Thin lines of dried blood traced down her throat.

I looked at my hands. They were trembling.

No.

No.

"Seraphine."

My voice came out like gravel scraping stone. Too loud in the silent room.

Her eyes fluttered open. Swollen. Red-rimmed. She looked at me—and flinched. Actually flinched. Drew the sheet up against her chest with trembling hands.

"Your Majesty." Her voice was barely a whisper. Broken. "I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—"

"What happened." Not a question. A command. Cold and flat and absolutely not a request.

She sat up slowly. Wincing. One hand pressed against a bruise on her shoulder like it still burned.

"You don’t remember?" More tears spilled down her face. "After—after Prince Gareth told you. About Isolde. About what she’d done. You were—" She swallowed hard. "You were so angry. You kept saying Lady Elara would leave you. That she’d never forgive you for bringing that woman back into your life. You were shouting. Breaking things."

"That’s not—"

"You grabbed my arm." Her chin trembled. "You said you needed to forget. Just for one night. You needed to forget everything. You brought me here. I tried to say no, Your Majesty. I tried. But you—"

"Stop."

The word cracked through the room like a whip.

I was on my feet. I didn’t remember standing. My hands were shaking—actually shaking—and I couldn’t make them stop.

"That didn’t happen," I said. My voice was someone else’s. Low. Dangerous. Barely controlled. "I would never—"

"I know you wouldn’t." She was sobbing now. Quiet, restrained sobs that shook her whole frame. "Not normally. You weren’t yourself. The look in your eyes—it wasn’t you. I know that. I know that."

I stared at the marks on her body. The evidence. Irrefutable. Damning.

But I don’t remember.

I couldn’t remember anything.

The last thing in my mind was Gareth’s face. That flat, patient expression. The sweet smell filling my lungs.

He drugged me.

The realization hit like a fist to the sternum. Gareth. The sealed room. The alchemical compound in the air. He’d set the entire thing up—the fake intelligence, Isolde’s name as bait, the sweet-scented poison that stole my consciousness.

And then what? Placed me here? With her?

I looked at Seraphine again. The bruises. The bites. If I hadn’t done this—

But they were there. On her body. Real. Undeniable.

I couldn’t prove I hadn’t done it. I couldn’t prove anything when my mind was a blank wall.

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