The royal corridors buzzed with whispers, but nothing could prepare the palace staff for the shouting match echoing from the private drawing room. King Charles, with an oddly serene smile, had just dropped the news over afternoon tea: “It’s time to set the date for Queen Kate’s coronation.”
Camilla’s teacup froze halfway to her lips. “Queen… Kate?” she repeated, her voice low but trembling with disbelief. “Are you even sane, Charles?” Charles adjusted his cufflinks, refusing to meet her glare. “The people adore her, Camilla. The monarchy needs a fresh face—someone the public will rally behind.” Camilla’s eyes narrowed. “A fresh face? Or a younger one to replace me while I’m still breathing?” She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the polished floor. “Let me make this clear—if you dare go through with this, I’ll walk out of this house and never return. And you can explain to the world why their ‘beloved’ queen left in disgrace.” The tension was suffocating.
Outside the door, a nervous aide pretended to check his notes, though every syllable carried into the hallway. Charles finally looked up, his voice quiet but firm. “Sometimes, Camilla… the crown must come before the heart.” Camilla’s jaw tightened, her eyes glistening—not with sadness, but with defiance. “Then you’ll have neither.” She swept out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the marble, leaving Charles staring into the distance—knowing the storm had only begun.
