The sun cast a vibrant glow over the secret playground, nestled within a dense cluster of towering trees. It was a secret hideout, concealed from the outside world, yet it was well within the property of the Taylor estate and wasn’t far from the Wilson mansion, assuring that it was a safe for kids to play around.

  In the middle of this secret haven stood a small playhouse, designed to resemble a life-sized toy home. Crafted from durable plastic, its pastel walls were molded into patterns that mimicked bricks. Inside, it was just large enough for a little girl to fit, her knees pulled close to her chest as she sat hugging her cute teddy bear bag, sobbing quietly.

  Her small body trembled with each quiet sob, so overwhelmed by her emotions that she didn’t notice the soft crunch of dried leaves outside the tiny playhouse. It wasn’t until a shadow fell across the small window that she realized she was not alone.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  She quickly stifled her sobs. She didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice—warm, soothing, and imbued with an affection that always made her feel cherished. It belonged to the person who treated her like a real princess, always whisking her away to the Taylor mansion to play for hours. On every special occasion, she was there, more present and nurturing than the Wilson family.

  “How did you find me, Aunt Nath?” she asked with curiosity, clinging to Ezra’s promise that no one would ever know about their secret hideout except for him and her grandfather, who had helped them build the playground.

  She leaned closer, her voice soothing, and a soft smile graced her lips. “You are like a daughter to me, so I just have to follow my heart to find my little darling.”

  Her small fists clenched as she stared at Nathaly, her tear-streaked face contorted with confusion. Her chest heaved with shallow, hiccupping breaths. “You’re lying!” she screamed, her voice shrill and cracking. “Because Mom and Dad would’ve known where I was! Every time I ran away, they never found me!” Her voice broke into a wail as she stomped her tiny foot on the playhouse floor.

  Nathaly smiled gently as she knelt, bringing herself closer to the child’s level. “You’re absolutely right, my darling. I couldn’t see you everywhere, which is why I tracked your location.” Her eyes flickered to the tablet, which still faintly glowed beside Blair.

  Her small brows furrowed deeply as she noticed that Nathaly’s calm words and soothing tone did not match her piercing blue eyes, which held a strange intensity that Blair couldn’t comprehend. Something about those eyes disturbed her, but she remained silent, her mind too entangled in other concerns to question it further.

  She hesitated, her small hands fidgeting in her lap as she avoided looking at Nathaly. She bit her lip, uncertain whether the words in her mind would make any sense. After a long moment, her soft voice finally broke the silence.

  “What is divorce?” she asked, her brows furrowing slightly.

  By the child’s hesitant tone and the way her gaze lingered on her device, it was clear she had already searched for the word, yet the answer had upset her. She sought more than just a definition; she craved clarity and reassurance.

  “You’re a smart kid,” she mumbled, her voice steady and kind. “So I know you already understand what it means from your search.” She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on her knees, her expression soft yet serious. “But if you have more questions—about that or about your family—I promise to answer everything you’re curious about.”

  Blair’s lips trembled, her small hands gripping the hem of her dress tightly, as if holding on to it could prevent her emotions from overflowing. Her wide, tear-filled eyes darted to Nathaly’s face, searching for any sign that she might say something different, that the answer could vary from what she feared.

  “Do you want to hear a story, Blair?” Her voice sounded unfamiliar this time—lower and almost detached.

  For a moment, Blair hesitated, staring at her aunt with furrowed brows. Her instincts screamed for her to block out the voice, but her curiosity kept her rooted in place.

  She didn’t respond immediately; her thoughts drifted back to a moment earlier that she wished she could forget.

  She was hiding in her mother’s closet, wearing the dress her grandfather had bought for her to wear to the Taylor and Wilson family dinner. As she planned to show it off to her mother, Blair thought it would be amusing to play a little prank.

  Grinning to herself, she crouched quietly, waiting for the perfect moment to jump out and surprise her. However, just as she reached for the closet door, her father’s voice echoed as he closed their bedroom door.

  “Divorce?” Scott asked loudly for clarification.

  Her heart raced as she pressed herself deeper into the closet, her small hands trembling against the fabric of the dress.

  Her mother’s voice trembled, filled with desperation and distress. “Having a child wasn’t part of the plan.” Amidst her muffled sobs, Blair only caught a fragment of her mother’s words as she added, “But I could have aborted…” before a knock interrupted her speech.

  “Have you seen Blair?” someone asked, their voice tinged with concern.

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  When her parents stepped out to search for her, she quietly slipped from the closet, darted through the halls, down the garden path, and toward her secret playground nestled between the Taylor and Wilson estates. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t stop running until she reached the small playhouse.

  Her little hands twisted nervously in her lap, her heart pounding as curiosity gnawed at her. She hesitated before whispering, “Is the story... about my mom and dad?”

  Nathaly reached out from the window, gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek. Her touch was warm, yet it carried an undeniable weight, as if burdened by unspoken truths. “The story may hurt, my darling,” she whispered, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow. “However, sometimes it’s better to confront the truth than to continue living a lie.”

  Blair’s throat tightened, and her hands trembled as she clenched her small fist. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  “Blair, what I’m about to tell you isn’t easy to hear, but it’s the truth.”

  She sat up straighter, and her cute little lips quivered as she nodded for Nathaly to begin her story.

  “A long time ago,” she began, her voice soft and steady, “there were two powerful kingdoms: the Wilson and the Port. The Port was ambitious and cunning, always seeking ways to expand their power and become invincible. They devised a plan to forge an alliance through marriage, hoping to bind their future to the Wilsons’ formidable kingdom. Their aim was to marry Princess Nathaly of the Port to Prince Scott of the Wilson.”

  Blair’s eyes widened as she tilted her head, struggling to understand. “You? But… you’re Ezra’s mom.”

  Nathaly’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Yes, my little one. But this story takes place long before Ezra was born. The Port family sought to secure their position in the realm by arranging my marriage to the Wilson prince—your father. For them, it was not about love but about power, influence, and control. However, Kennedy, the Wilson king, was a wise ruler. He saw through the Port’s scheme.”

  Blair’s breath hitched as she leaned closer. “What did he do?”

  Nathaly’s gaze dropped to the ground, her voice now softer, as if she were recounting a memory etched deep in her heart. “The Wilson king devised a plan. To protect the prince and the kingdom, he hired a commoner—an exceptionally beautiful and strong woman. Her role was to stand beside the prince as his queen, but only in name. Their union served as a shield, a clever ruse to thwart the Ports’ scheme. That woman… was your mother, Amalia.”

  Blair froze as Nathaly’s words lingered in her mind like a thorny vine. “A deception? You mean… they are not real?”

  Nathaly shook her head gently. Her tone was soft, yet her eyes remained distant, devoid of the emotion conveyed by her voice. “Amalia wasn’t meant to stay forever. But fate, as it often does, had other plans.”

  Blair’s voice wavered, barely audible, as her thoughts spiraled. The words divorce and aborted in her mind, their meanings pressing on her chest like a thousand needles. “What... what happened?” she finally asked, her small hands trembling in her lap.

  “Life happened, princess. And you happened. Amalia was supposed to leave the Wilson kingdom quietly after the contract, but they found out that she was pregnant with you. What began as a simple contract became much more complicated.”

  She initially cried silently, biting her lip to stifle the sound, but the pain became unbearable. A heartbreaking wail finally escaped her lips as she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently. The truth she had uncovered was too immense for her fragile little heart to endure. All the love she believed she had—it wasn’t real. It had never been real. “So, I am the reason they are fighting.”

  She had always believed she was the luckiest girl in the world, with parents who doted on her, provided everything she desired, and made her feel deeply loved. However, as she reflected on her parents’ conversation and her aunt’s revelation—“Was I truly unwanted?”—the glittering illusion shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.

  The child’s wail of agony awakened Nathaly’s sense of guilt. Her expression crumbled as she realized she had shattered the young, fragile soul. Her lips parted, trembling as she struggled to find the words to apologize, but nothing could undo the pain she had inflicted.

  “Baby… I—I didn’t mean to tell you,” Nathaly stammered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear it.”

  Blair turned her head away, her tear-streaked face concealed as her small shoulders hunched, as if shielding herself from the painful words. “I wish you didn’t tell me!”

  She knelt closer, her movements slow and gentle, as if approaching a precious yet fragile porcelain figure. “I came here to say goodbye.” Her voice wavered as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please… believe that…”

  Nathaly’s voice trailed off mid-sentence as her phone vibrated sharply in her pocket, the sound intrusive in the quiet tension of the moment. Her breath caught, and the color drained from her face. A pop-up message flashed briefly: “They coming for you!”

  She stood abruptly, the shift so sudden that Blair flinched, her tear-filled eyes widening at the unexpected movement. Nathaly’s trembling hands moved to her coat pocket, retrieving a small object wrapped in a plastic bag. She crouched beside the playhouse, slipping the object through the window frame and placing it carefully inside, as if leaving a final token in a sacred space.

  “What… what is happening?” she croaked, her voice hoarse from crying as she struggled to keep up with her rapid movements.

  She didn’t answer, her head snapping up at the faint sound of distant footsteps—a sound that only she seemed to hear. “Please stay here quietly,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She rose swiftly, her elegant grace replaced by panicked haste. “Don’t move or make any sound. And no matter what you hear, stay quiet, okay?”

  Blair crouched in the cramped playhouse, her knees pressed tightly to her chest as her trembling hands gripped her tablet. Her fingers moved frantically over the screen, attempting to call for help, but an error message blinked back at her.

  No Service Available.

  “No, no, no…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. She tried again, dialing the emergency number with trembling hands, only to be met with the same cruel silence. Clinging to the tablet, she willed it to connect—praying for a lifeline.

  Then a scream.

  Nathaly’s voice pierced the still afternoon air, sharp and desperate.

  Her breath came in shallow, quick gasps as her delicate fingers jabbed at the screen once more. “Please work, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Yet the tablet stubbornly displayed the same mocking message: No Network.

  Then came the footsteps.

  Heavy. Purposeful. Crunching against the sunlit gravel outside, each step felt like a countdown.

  The footsteps ceased just outside.

  Her pulse thundered in her ears as the playhouse door creaked open. Before she could scream, a large hand shot forward, grabbing her with terrifying force and yanking her inside.

  “No!” she gasped, her voice cracking as she struggled, her feet kicking against the ground.

  The tablet slipped from her grasp, landing on the ground with a dull thud. Before she could cry out again, a heavy boot came down, shattering it with a loud, sickening crunch.

  The bright, warm afternoon felt cruelly indifferent, much like the vast, open sky. The world swallowed Blair’s cries, dissolving them into terror.