A Royal Cover-Up

Held securely in Gideon's strong arms, Chloe giggles brightly. The cheerful sound rings through the tense silence of the studio, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. She effortlessly sidesteps the imposing billionaire's inquiry with a brilliant, toothy smile. "Mommy told us we can only tell anyone who asks her name that mommy is Her Royal Highness," she states. She delivers the absurd title with unwavering, adorable conviction, her big eyes blinking up at him innocently.

Gideon’s gaze shifts slowly from the lively little girl nestled against his chest to the boy standing firmly on the floor. He stares at Maddox. He acutely notes that the fiercely protective boy looks exactly like a miniature version of himself. The sharp jawline, the intense dark eyes, the natural air of defiance—it is like looking into a mirror reflecting his own childhood. The physical resemblance is undeniable. Yet, a heavy burden weighs down his mind. The fabricated reality he has accepted for six years blocks any logical connection. He firmly believes that Camilla was the one and only woman who had slept with him that night at the hotel. Burdened by this accepted truth, he quickly dismisses the invasive thought as an impossibility. It is just a strange coincidence. Nothing more.

Chloe glances at her bare small wrist as if reading an invisible watch, then confidently announces, "Mr. Handsum, it is time for us to go home now. If we stay too long, Her Royal Highness will start to worry about us."

Gideon feels a strange reluctance to see them go. The lingering warmth of the child in his arms is a stark contrast to his usual cold, isolated existence. He sets her down on her feet gently. Shaking off the unfamiliar paternal pull, he immediately turns to his bewildered assistant. "Wyatt," Gideon instructs, his voice returning to its usual commanding tone. "Escort these children out safely."

Wyatt blinks, stupefied by the entire interaction, but quickly nods. "Yes, sir."

"Goodbye, Mr. Handsum!" Chloe waves enthusiastically, her bright eyes shining. She grabs her brother's hand.

The exact moment they step outside the heavy glass doors of the Obsidian building, the innocent toddler act vanishes. The cool city breeze hits them, and Chloe's sweet smile morphs into a triumphant grin. She opens her tiny fist and proudly flashes a single, dark strand of Gideon's hair at Maddox. She had plucked it smoothly from his collar while hugging his neck.

Maddox nods in silent, serious approval, acting more like a seasoned operative than a five-year-old boy.

Tugging insistently at Wyatt’s expensive suit jacket, Chloe looks up. She seamlessly spins another fib, her large eyes pooling with fake sadness. "Sir, our mommy is sick in the hospital. Can you drive us there? We really need to see her."

Stupefied by the unexpected request but deeply touched by their apparent thoughtfulness for their sick mother, Wyatt agrees without hesitation. "Of course. Let's get you to the car. Your mother must be proud to have such caring children."

Meanwhile, back at the quiet Oceanfront Villa, Vivienne returns from work. She drops her keys on the console table and kicks off her heels, letting out a long sigh of exhaustion. The house is filled with complex melodies. She walks into the living room to find her eldest son, Jaxon, intensely practicing on the grand piano. His small fingers move across the black and white keys with surprising speed and precision, tackling a difficult classical piece.

"Jaxon," Vivienne calls out softly, not wanting to startle him. She casually inquires about the whereabouts of his siblings. "Where are Chloe and Maddox?"

Jaxon, not missing a beat, keeps playing the intricate melody. He explains their absence with matter-of-fact calmness. "Maddox and Chloe have gone outside to audition as child models. They want to help share your financial burden."

Vivienne freezes. She walks over to the piano bench, a wave of immense maternal love washing over her tired soul. She affectionately rubs his head, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. She ignores his dramatic grumbles about messing up his styled hair.

"Mommy, stop," Jaxon complains, puffing his cheeks.

"Jaxon, you three don't have to share the burden with me," she says softly, her voice filled with raw emotion. "Mommy can still raise and support all three of you. You are just children. You shouldn't worry about money."

"No, Mommy. You’ve worked hard enough," Jaxon insists. His small face is set with fierce determination. He stops playing and turns to face her. He reminds her of his recent achievement. "I'm already enrolled at the prestigious Sovereign Academy of Music. You won't have to worry about my tuition. I have my ways."

Vivienne listens, her heart swelling with pride at his words.

Jaxon vows with firm certainty. "I will get a scholarship soon. Then you can afford to send Maddox and Chloe to elite international schools. Mommy, you should only have to work on your passion. You shouldn't stress about making ends meet for us."

Deeply moved to tears by his maturity, Vivienne pulls him into a tight hug. She praises her little Beethoven, thanking the heavens for giving her such sensible, brilliant children.

Shortly after, the front door bursts open. Chloe and Maddox rush into the villa, their faces flushed with energy. They proudly announce the massive success of their audition.

"Mommy, Your Royal Highness, we're back! We got selected!" Chloe cheers, throwing her arms up in the air.

Vivienne laughs, wiping her tears away. She happily kisses their cheeks and retreats to the kitchen to cook a celebratory dinner.

The moment Vivienne disappears into the kitchen, the atmosphere in the living room shifts. The three brilliant rugrats immediately huddle together near the sofa, forming a tight, secretive circle.

"How did it go?" Jaxon asks under his breath. His sharp eyes dart toward the kitchen to make sure their mother is out of earshot.

"Don't worry," Maddox replies instantly in a hushed tone. He looks like a commander delivering a mission report. "It's been taken to the hospital for an examination. We handed the hair over for the DNA test. It'll take two days for the results to be out."

Chloe proudly pats her chest, brimming with confidence. "It's always fail-safe when I take action. He didn't suspect a thing when I gave him a hug."

Far across the city, inside the opulent but oppressive walls of the Kensington manor, a much darker conversation takes place. Monica paces the floor of the lavish drawing room. She seethes with rage over her daughter's frantic revelation.

"What did you just say? Designer Veda is that b*tch Vivienne?" Monica hisses. The sheer panic sets in, chilling her to the bone.

She realizes the monumental danger they are in. Six years ago, Camilla had deliberately stolen Vivienne’s place as the woman from the dark hotel room. That single night of deception secured their connection to the Rothwell empire. If Vivienne ever discovers that Gideon was actually the stranger she had slept with, everything will crumble. She would undoubtedly fight Camilla for his affections, his status, and his power. The truth would ruin them both.

"Mother, what should I do?" Camilla asks. She stands by the velvet sofa, wringing her hands worriedly. Her face is pale with dread. "If she finds out, she will take him away from me."

Monica stops pacing. Her lips curl into a cold, calculating smile. She walks over and grabs Camilla's shaking hands. She reminds Camilla that she currently has Gideon's ultimate backing.

"So what if she's Veda? Don't forget your position," Monica says sharply. "Since the b*tch has returned to Valoria, you have to make some progressions with Mr. Rothwell. It’s best to get pregnant. You’ll become Mrs. Rothwell as long as you get pregnant with his child. Once you have his bloodline in your womb, Vivienne can't touch you."

Camilla lowers her eyes in shameful defeat. Her voice drops to a pathetic volume. "But Mother, Mr. Rothwell hasn’t even touched me for the past six years. He keeps me close, but he never takes me to his bed."

Monica scoffs loudly at her daughter's timid passivity. She glares at Camilla, disgusted by her lack of drive. "Are you dumb? How long do you plan to wait for him to take the initiative? You’re the one who should take the initiative. He is a healthy man. Get in his bed. How many men are there in the world who can resist such temptations when a woman offers herself?"

Startled at first by the bold suggestion, Camilla quickly grasps the aggressive strategy. The fear of losing her lavish lifestyle overtakes her shame. She realizes she can no longer afford to play the passive victim. Waiting will only give Vivienne the time she needs to uncover the truth and steal Gideon away.

Camilla lifts her chin. A new, desperate resolve shines in her eyes. She smiles bashfully, picturing the wealth and power that a pregnancy will permanently secure for her. "Mother, I know now. I will take the initiative."