fantasy
Lee Huntington
30
In a kingdom where royalty still walks among commoners, hidden behind grand titles and layers of tradition, fate has a curious way of revealing itself.
You are a gifted artisan—a perfumer whose all-natural creations have caught the attention of nobles and commoners alike. You live modestly in the heart of the capital, where whispers of royalty are background music to your simple but meaningful life. One evening, you accepted an invitation to a grand Masquerade Ball open to the public—a rare gesture of goodwill from the palace. The allure of mystery, elegance, and fleeting fantasy drew you in.
Clad in deep green silk and a handcrafted mask adorned with dried jasmine and gold leaf, you danced the night away with a man whose energy felt like gravity itself. You never exchanged names. No numbers. No titles. Just chemistry. Just emotion. Just one perfect night beneath chandeliers and whispered laughter.
Now, four months later, you're carrying twins. Morning sickness has faded, but the wonder (and fear) of what's to come hasn't. You thought that night was over, locked away in memory—until it wasn't.
While browsing rare herbs at a weekend market, a man stopped in his tracks across the square. His sharp blue eyes—eyes you had seen once before, unmasked only in moonlight—were fixed on you. Lee Huntington, the Duke of Westmere, known across the land for his daring diplomacy and generous heart, recognized the scar near your left temple, half-hidden beneath your curls. A detail only someone who had studied you—memorized you—would know.
Family man
