Said No to the Prince and Yes to the King novel Chapter 3

3 Never Submit Meekly

Margaret didn’t quite remember how she got back to the Prime Minister’s Estate. One moment, she’d been lying in the snow; the next, she opened her eyes to find herself in a warm, soft bed.
“Miss, you’re finally awake…”
The pitiful, whimpering voice gave Margaret a slight headache. She glanced briefly at the young maid by her bedside.
From her memories, this was her personal attendant, Winter.
Winter clutched her hand tightly. “Miss, I know the Crown Prince broke your heart, but he is the Crown Prince after all. Even if he doesn’t marry Stella now, he’d still end up with a harem full of women someday. Why’d you have to go and throw yourself off that cliff? You nearly scared me to death! I thought I’d never see you again!” Winter’s grip tightened, tears streaming.
The room was dim, seemingly deep into the night. By the flickering candlelight, Margaret quietly surveyed her surroundings. “Are you alone here?”
Winter sniffled, tears and mucus streaming down her face. “Stella heard you tried to kill yourself and was so scared she fainted from crying. Right now, Mr. Campbell and the Crown Prince have both gone to see her…”
Margaret rubbed her forehead in exasperation. This house revolved around Stella like the moon orbited the earth. Their mother had died young. Their father was always busy with state affairs. Their oldest brother ran things.
Three siblings lived here now: the eldest son, Jasper Campbell; the third daughter, Stella; and the unwanted second daughter—her.
Seeing Margaret remain silent, Winter lowered her voice and added, “But Miss, the Crown Prince does care about you. You should have seen how grim his expression was when he carried you back! He understands that you only acted so rashly out of jealousy. See, he even specially sent someone to give you a gift.”
She gestured at a box on the floor. “Thank goodness you’re okay this time, or else—”
“Margaret, you’re awake?”
Before Winter could finish, Christopher’s voice suddenly came from outside the door.
Winter startled and quickly stepped back.
He strode into the room and sat down on the stool by the bed. “Here, let me help you sit up.”
His gentle tone felt foreign to Margaret. She lightly brushed aside his reaching hand, sat up on her own, and leaned against the headboard.
Christopher froze, silently withdrawing his hand. His expression cooled several degrees. “Still throwing a tantrum?”
Margaret simply stared at him quietly. He was undeniably handsome—no wonder the original Margaret had been so devoted…
Brushing against those memories, Margaret’s heart ached fiercely.
But she was not the original Margaret.
And she would absolutely not submit meekly!
“Let’s call off the engagement.”
Her tone was flat, devoid of emotion. Christopher shot to his feet. “How long are you going to keep this up?”
“I’m serious.” Her voice stayed level. “It’s late. You should go. Tomorrow, Winter will send you the annulment papers. Just sign them.”
Somehow, Christopher felt the woman before him was unfamiliar.
The Margaret he knew would be ecstatic to see him. She’d never looked at him like this—like he was nothing.
“Margaret, my patience has limits. Push me again, and you won’t like what happens.”
“What limits?” She met his gaze calmly. “The limit where you slapped me when Stella tripped? Or the limit where you forced me to apologize when she claimed I poisoned her? When you were crippled, she ran. Hid. You—”
“Enough! You’re beyond hope!”
Christopher roared. Whenever Stella was involved, he was always deadly serious.
“Stella’s explained it a hundred times—she was kidnapped! A healer saved her! It took her three years to learn enough medicine to come back and help me! She suffered for us, worked her ass off to get home, and all you do is trash her name! Where’s your decency as her sister?”
Watching him scream himself hoarse over Stella… Margaret finally understood what the original Margaret had felt.
Loving this man?
Revolting.
Good thing she wasn’t the original. This barely stung.
“If she’s so perfect and you’re so in love, why make her a concubine?”
Christopher’s jaw twitched. “I’ve given you everything. Don’t push your luck.”
“Everything?” Margaret’s laugh was cold. “Or is it that you want out, but your precious conscience won’t let you be the bad guy?”
“How did you become such a monster?” he spat. “You used to be sweet. Gentle. Now you just eat and sleep—you’re practically two of Stella! What kind of woman lets herself go like that? I’ve kept my word. I’ve saved the Crown Princess seat for you. All I asked was that you share the wedding day, and you throw yourself off a cliff! You’ve got no grace as an older sister, no dignity as a future princess—”
“Winter, bring paper and brush.”
Margaret was done listening.
When Winter just stood there gaping, Margaret got up, walked to the desk, and started writing.
Then, under Christopher’s stunned gaze, she enunciated each word, “Since Your Highness finds me so repulsive, sign this. We go our separate ways. I’ll never see you again. You’ll never bother me again. Deal?”
A grown man, so hesitant and long-winded—utterly annoying!
Staring at her impatient face, then at the prepared document on the table, Christopher was slow to react.
Margaret pressed, “Please sign, Your Highness. From now on, we shall never meet.”
“You’re serious?”
Christopher still thought she was speaking in anger.
Margaret snapped, “Hurry up.”
Christopher clenched his fists. “Margaret…”
“Sign or not?”
“You…”
Trembling with rage, Christopher spat out, “You’ll regret this!” and furiously signed the paper before throwing down the brush and storming out!
At the door, he paused. “Stella fainted because of you. If you have any conscience left, go see her.”
“I jumped off a cliff because of her. Why hasn’t she come to see me? Is she that heartless in your eyes?”
Christopher stumbled. His face went black.
“Suit yourself!”