The Disgraced Husband Is Actually Royalty In Hiding

Chapter 9_Thirty Days

The pen touched the paper.

Ethan could not breathe. He watched Sophia's hand. Her fingers were shaking so badly that the pen made a small black mark on the line.

Diane leaned forward, smiling. Chloe put down her phone to watch. Even Gerald turned away from the window.

Then Sophia stopped.

She stared at the paper for a long time. Then, slowly, she put the pen down.

"No," she said quietly.

Diane's smile disappeared. "What did you say?"

"I said no." Sophia looked up. Her eyes were still wet, but her voice was steady now. "Not today."

"Sophia!" Diane's face turned red. "After everything he did to us last night? After the police? After the video?"

"He didn't kill anyone, Mom. The police let him go. There was a video of the real shooter."

"I don't care about the shooter! I care about our name!"

Sophia stood up from the table. She was shorter than her mother, but right now she looked taller.

"Give me thirty days," she said.

The room went quiet.

"Thirty days?" Diane repeated.

"Thirty days to decide. If I still feel this way at the end of thirty days, I'll sign. I promise." Sophia looked at Ethan. "But I need time. I need to know the truth first."

Ethan's heart jumped.

Thirty days.

The same number his uncle had said on the news. Thirty days until parliament closed forever. Thirty days until Viktor became too powerful to stop.

Thirty days to save his kingdom. And thirty days to save his marriage.

"This is crazy," Chloe said. "Brandon will never wait thirty days."

"Then Brandon can marry someone else," Sophia said coldly.

She picked up the divorce papers, folded them in half, and walked toward the stairs. As she passed Ethan, she stopped. She didn't look at him.

"Thirty days, Ethan," she whispered. "Don't lie to me again."

Then she went up the stairs.

Diane did not speak to Ethan for the rest of the day.

That was not unusual. What was unusual was what she did that afternoon.

Ethan was in the kitchen when he heard her on the phone in the hallway. Her voice was low, but he could hear every word.

"Brandon, darling, I'm so sorry. She's being stubborn. … Yes, I know. … Thirty days. … No, don't worry. I promise you, she'll sign. I'll make sure of it." Diane paused. "What do you mean, you have a plan? … Oh. Oh, I see. … Yes. Yes, that would work very well."

She laughed quietly and hung up.

Ethan slowly put down the plate he was drying.

Brandon had a plan. And Diane was helping him.

He took out his black phone and sent a short text to Leo.

*Put a man on Brandon Sterling. Day and night. I want to know everyone he talks to.*

The answer came back in five seconds.

*Already done, sir. And we have news about the key.*

---

At midnight, Ethan climbed out his window again.

At the garage, Leo was waiting with a serious face. The other members of the inner circle were there too. Nina at her computer, typing fast. Marco, a big quiet man who handled weapons. Daniel, a young man with red hair who was good with cars and locks. And Teresa, an older woman with gray hair who used to be a nurse in the royal palace.

Five people.

One of them was a traitor.

Ethan looked at each face as he walked in. Nina, who had saved his money from hackers a hundred times. Marco, who once took a bullet in the leg for him. Daniel, who was only nineteen when he joined them. Teresa, who had sung songs to Ethan when he was a little boy.

They all bowed their heads.

"Your Highness."

Ethan nodded. His face showed nothing. But inside, his chest hurt.

*One of you sold Bramwell to Kael*, he thought. *One of you got him killed.*

"Tell me about the key," he said.

Leo held up the little brass key. "Number 214. Daniel found it."

Daniel stepped forward, excited. "It's a safety deposit box, sir. At the First Harbor Bank on State Street. Bramwell rented it two weeks ago under a fake name."

"What's inside?"

"We don't know. The bank only opens the box for the owner. Or someone with the key and the right password."

"And the password?"

Daniel's face fell. "We don't know that either."

Ethan thought for a moment. Bramwell had been a careful man. He would not give someone a key without a way to use it.

"He knew me as a boy," Ethan said slowly. "He would choose something only I would know."

"Like what, sir?" Teresa asked.

"I'll think about it." Ethan put the key in his pocket. Then he looked around the room. "From now on, the key stays with me. Nobody else touches it. Nobody else knows where it is."

The room went quiet. Everyone understood what he meant.

Nina stopped typing. "Sir," she said carefully, "you think one of us talked."

"I think Bramwell is dead," Ethan said. "And only the people in this room knew he would be at that ball."

Nobody said anything.

Marco looked at the floor. Daniel looked at Leo. Teresa put her hand over her mouth. Nina turned back to her computer, but Ethan saw her fingers had stopped moving.

"I'm not accusing anyone," Ethan said. "But until I know the truth, I trust no one. Not even you, Leo."

Leo did not look hurt. He nodded slowly. "That's what your father would have done, sir."

---

Ethan got home at three in the morning. He climbed through the window quietly.

Then he froze.

Someone was sitting on his bed in the dark.

His body moved before his mind did. He was across the room in one step, his hand ready—

"Ethan, it's me!"

He stopped.

Sophia sat on the edge of his small bed, wrapped in a blue robe. In the moonlight from the window, he could see her face. She was not angry. She looked tired and sad.

"Sophia." He let out a long breath. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." She looked at the open window. "Where do you go every night?"

Ethan said nothing.

"I'm not going to scream," she said softly. "I'm not going to tell my mother. I just want to know."

He sat down slowly on the old wooden chair across from her. For a long time, neither of them spoke.

"I can't tell you," he finally said. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because if I tell you, you'll be in danger. Real danger. The kind that doesn't go away."

Sophia looked at him for a long time. "Are you a criminal, Ethan?"

"No."

"Are you a spy?"

He almost smiled. "No."

"Did you kill that man last night?"

"No." He looked straight into her eyes. "Sophia, I swear to you. I didn't kill him. He was my friend."

Sophia's eyes went wide. "Your friend? You said you didn't know him."

Ethan closed his eyes. He had said too much.

Sophia stood up slowly. She walked to the door. Then she stopped.

"Thirty days, Ethan," she said quietly. "When the thirty days are over, you're going to tell me everything. Or I'm going to sign those papers. And I'm going to walk away, and you'll never see me again."

She left and closed the door softly behind her.

Ethan sat alone in the dark for a long time.

---

Five thousand miles away, the sun was rising over a cold gray mountain in Eastern Europe.

On top of the mountain, hidden among tall pine trees, there was an old stone building. It had no sign. No name. It was not on any map.

Inside, in a large empty room with a wooden floor, a young woman stood in the center with her eyes closed.

She was twenty-two years old. She was thin and strong, with long black hair tied back tightly. She wore all black. Her feet were bare on the cold wooden floor.

Around her stood six men. All of them were bigger than her. All of them were holding wooden training sticks.

A whistle blew.

The six men attacked at the same time.

The young woman moved like water. She ducked. She spun. She jumped. In twenty seconds, all six men were lying on the floor, holding their arms and legs and groaning.

She had not even opened her eyes.

From the side of the room, someone started clapping slowly.

The young woman opened her eyes. They were gray. Sharp, cold gray.

An older man walked toward her. He was short and wide, with a black beard and a long coat. His name was Gregor. He had trained her since she was ten years old. He was the closest thing to a father she had ever known.

"Very good, Raven," Gregor said. "Very, very good. You are ready."

"Ready for what?" she asked.

Gregor took an envelope out of his coat. "For the mission you have been training for your whole life."

Raven's heart beat faster. For twelve years, Gregor had promised her this day. The day she would get her revenge.

She opened the envelope.

Inside was one photo. It was a little blurry, like it had been taken quickly from far away. It showed a crowded ballroom with golden lights. In the middle of the photo, a young man in an old, cheap tuxedo was kneeling next to an old man on the floor.

The young man had dark hair. And gray eyes.

"His name is Ethan Cole," Gregor said. "He lives in Boston, in America. He pretends to be a poor man. A dishwasher. He is married to a rich woman."

Raven stared at the photo. Something about the man's face made her feel strange. She did not know why.

"Who is he?" she asked.

Gregor put his hand on her shoulder. His voice became soft and serious.

"Raven, you have always asked me about the night your parents died. You were only ten. You don't remember. The fire. The screaming. The blood." He tapped the photo with his finger. "Now you will know the truth."

Raven looked up at him.

"This is the man," Gregor said slowly, "who murdered your mother and father."

Raven's hands closed tightly around the photo. Her gray eyes turned to ice.

She did not know that her real name was not Raven.

She did not know that the man in the photo had cried for her every night for twelve years.

She did not know that her real name was Princess Elena Varenko.

And that the man she had just been ordered to kill was her own brother.