The storm clouds over Balmoral Castle moved as if burdened by the same weight that had pressed on Prince Henry’s chest for nineteen long months. He stepped out of the car slowly, his breath unsteady, his palms trembling. The great oak doors opened, and inside, the hall was cold, silent… waiting.
And at the far end stood King Alistair.
Henry’s vision blurred with tears he had sworn he wouldn’t shed. But the moment his eyes locked on the man he had once believed unshakeable, the dam inside him broke.
“F-Father…” Henry whispered, his voice cracking like fragile glass.
He stumbled forward—first walking, then running—until he reached the King and, unable to contain the grief any longer, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around his father’s legs. The sobs tore out of him in raw, painful waves.
“Please… please forgive me…”
His fingers clutched the King’s trousers like a child begging not to be abandoned.
The hall echoed only with Henry’s broken crying. King Alistair did not speak. He did not move. Not for one second… nor for thirty.
The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.
Finally, the King exhaled, the sound weary—not angry, but ancient, as though the truth itself had been eroding him slowly for years.
He lowered a hand onto Henry’s shoulder.
And then, after the long, crushing stillness, he spoke four words.
“You deserved the truth.”
Henry froze.
Slowly, he lifted his face, streaked with tears.
“The truth?” he whispered. “About what?”
King Alistair turned away, moving toward the small mahogany table near the hearth. On it lay an envelope—thick, sealed, and marked with a crest Henry did not recognize.
“It arrived two weeks ago,” the King said. “Long before you returned. I hoped I’d never have to open it. But I did.”
Henry’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.
The King slid the envelope across the table—toward him.
Inside was a document stamped with the insignia of a private genetics institute… and a line of text that made Henry’s breath hitch.
“Genetic Parentage Analysis — Subject: Crown Prince Wilhelm.”
Henry shook his head violently. “No. Wilhelm is my brother. He’s YOUR son. He’s the heir—”
“The test was performed decades ago,” King Alistair said quietly. “Without my knowledge. And it was hidden… until now.”
Henry felt the world tilt. His stomach twisted.
“Then who…”
