The Monarch Crown System

13. The Coronation

The influencer’s fake coronation claims took over social media like a sickness.

Every major platform pushed his videos. He flaunted the poorly-drawn Monarch emblem tattooed on his shoulder, claimed the “ancient spirits” had visited him, and even staged fake lightning in his backyard for dramatic effect.

And people ate it up.

Celeste and the Halstons devoured it.

They believed him instantly.

Because believing him meant not believing Elias.

And nothing pleased them more.

************

THE QUEEN’S HUNT

Even before the coronation week began, Celeste had already contacted the influencer—Jackson Reed.

He wasn’t special. A former classmate, a mediocre student, someone who failed half his courses.

But now? With millions of people chanting his name online?

He was suddenly valuable.

Celeste stood in front of the mirror, touching up her makeup as her mother watched eagerly from the bed.

“Show confidence,” Susan advised. “But look soft. Innocent. Like you’re the one woman who understands him.”

Celeste smirked.

“Oh trust me, men like him always chase what they can’t have. I’ll give him enough to want more… but not enough to feel satisfied.”

Henry walked by and clapped once.

“Bring him home. Let him see what alliance with our family can offer. Once he’s comfortable—”

His eyes gleamed.

“—he will never leave.”

Celeste slipped into a low-cut silk top and grabbed her purse.

“I’ll make him choose me.”

*************

Jackson was sitting at an upscale lounge he rented just to “appear royal” when Celeste walked in.

His jaw nearly dropped.

“Celeste Halston? Damn,” he grinned, leaning back. “You’re… wow. Been a long time.”

Celeste smiled seductively and walked straight to him.

“You look… powerful.”

Her fingers slid lightly across his wrist.

He swallowed hard.

She sat, crossed her legs slowly, and leaned forward just enough for him to stare exactly where she wanted him to stare.

And she wasn’t the only one to try.

By the second day, Jackson’s schedule had become a parade of desperate women.

—One brought an expensive bottle of imported wine and sat on his lap.

—Another arrived in a dress so transparent the waiters avoided looking at her eyes.

—A third offered him a “private photoshoot” in her hotel room.

But Celeste went further.

She “accidentally” brushed her chest against his arm.

She laughed too loudly at his dry jokes.

She sent him late-night voice notes dripping with fake affection.

She touched his neck as she whispered, “I always knew you were destined for greatness.”

Jackson soaked up every bit of it.

He bragged about the attention online.

He made videos implying “his queen might be chosen soon.”

All while Elias watched quietly from a distance.

He never once corrected the rumors.

Never exposed the fraud.

Because he had a plan.

The custodians, though furious at the embarrassment, obeyed his instruction:

“Let them fall deeper. I want to expose every last one of them at once.”

**********

CORONATION DAY

The royal hall was massive—pillars carved with ancient markings, banners showcasing centuries of Monarch history, a golden walkway leading to the throne where the true successor would soon be acknowledged.

People swarmed the entrance in expensive outfits.

Reporters whispered.

Influencers posed.

And everyone searched for the “chosen one.”

Jackson arrived wearing a ridiculous ceremonial robe he ordered online and a mask he thought made him look mysterious.

Celeste held his arm like she was already his wife.

Two other women followed behind her, glaring daggers at her.

They’d all been competing for him all week.

Celeste smirked at them triumphantly.

“He invited me personally,” she lied. “Try harder next time.”

Inside, Jackson basked in the attention.

He spoke loudly.

He walked grandly.

He answered questions with fake humility and fake wisdom.

And the crowd worshipped him.

Then Elias arrived.

No royal robes.

No guards.

Just a plain black shirt and worn trousers.

The security guards didn’t even glance at him.

“Invitation?” one asked without interest.

Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper.

It wasn’t an invitation—just an old receipt.

The guard barely looked.

“Yeah, yeah. Go in.”

People near the entrance muttered.

“Who let him in dressed like that?”

“Doesn’t he know this is sacred?”

“He looks like a driver.”

Elias walked silently into the hall, ignoring the whispers.

As soon as he was out of public view, he made a single call.

A custodian arrived instantly—bowing low in full ceremonial robes.

“Master,” the custodian whispered reverently. “Your place is ready.”

The people nearby froze.

Brows furrowed.

Mouths parted.

No one understood.

But curiosity didn’t last long, because Celeste had just spotted him.

She dragged Jackson toward him with open disgust.

She didn’t even let Elias speak.

“What exactly are you doing here?” she snapped. “This is not your kind of place.”

The other women snickered.

“Isn’t he the man that paraded himself as the successor at the hospital?” Jackson pointed mockingly.

The custodian narrowed his eyes, he couldn’t say anything unless Elias commanded it.

“Sadly, yes. And he is also my useless ex-husband.” Celeste added with a disgusted look.

Jackson puffed his chest.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he said to Celeste loudly. “Losers crawl anywhere they think they can get attention.”

Celeste folded her arms with satisfaction.

“Elias,” she said mockingly, “this is a royal ceremony. You embarrassing yourself won’t change anything. Just go back home.”

Elias looked at her calmly.

That alone irritated her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she hissed. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Jackson stepped forward, voice booming.

“Hey!” he barked at Elias. “Show some respect.”

Elias didn’t move.

Jackson smirked, now performing for the watching crowd.

“You think just because you showed up, you’re equal to the chosen one? You’re not even worth the dust on my shoes.”

Celeste nodded eagerly.

“That’s right. You should know your place.”

Jackson jabbed a finger at Elias.

“Kneel.”

The hall quieted instantly.

“You heard me,” Jackson repeated proudly. “Kneel before the true successor. Or get thrown out like the rat you are.”

Celeste smirked, arms crossed tightly.

“You’ve never had respect, Elias. At least show some today.”

Elias raised his head ever so slightly.

Not angry.

Not impressed.

Not threatened.

Silent.

Jackson mistook that silence for fear.

“So?” he demanded, raising his voice so everyone would hear.

“Are you deaf?

I said—

kneel.”