Prince Xavier's POV

"And this is the final slide of our presentation..." The head of the investment team’s voice trailed off, and my eyes fixed on the screen, though my thoughts had already wandered. This meeting was important to me—not because of the financial stakes or political alliances—but because it was about my mother. Her dream. A school for underprivileged children, built on her ancestral property. Years of planning and negotiations had all led to this moment, and soon, her wish would become a reality.

The room fell into a respectful silence as the presentation ended. One by one, the investors stood, offering me brief bows of thanks before making their way out. I nodded politely in return, maintaining the stoic demeanor I had perfected over the years.

"Your Highness, the meeting was a success," Jacques, my personal secretary, remarked, stepping closer. His voice held a note of satisfaction that I didn’t share outwardly, though I felt it.

"Yes," I replied. "Finally, my mother’s dream will come true."

The words held weight, though I kept my emotions in check. In this life, emotions are luxuries I rarely allow myself to display.

"Your Highness," Jacques continued, checking his schedule meticulously, "there are no further meetings scheduled for today."

"Good," I said, my voice steady. "I’ll be in the basement in ten minutes."

Jacques bowed and exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Slowly, I rose from my chair and walked toward the enormous glass window that overlooked the palace grounds. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the gardens and leaving the sky painted in hues of orange and purple. It was beautiful, yet I couldn’t help but compare it to my life—so starkly different. Where the sunset was vibrant and full of life, mine felt dull, monotonous, drained of color despite all the wealth and privilege I had inherited.

They say money cannot buy happiness. And in my case, they’re right.

Almost reflexively, my hand slipped into the pocket of my Armani jacket. I pulled out the silver pendant I carried with me everywhere—a small, delicate piece adorned with a single sapphire stone. As the light from the setting sun hit it, the gemstone sparkled, reflecting a shade of blue that was so familiar. The exact shade of her eyes. Captivating. Enchanting.

Her eyes haunted me.

The woman who had unknowingly made her way into my heart, someone I had tried—and failed—to forget. I clenched the pendant tightly in my hand for a moment before slipping it back into my pocket, forcing myself to focus on the present. Time to head back to the palace.

---

At the palace, it was already 8 p.m. when I decided to take a shower before dinner. The hot water helped to clear my mind, washing away the weariness of the day. Afterward, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked into the adjoining walk-in closet to change into something more comfortable. My evening routine was simple—a quiet dinner, followed by some time in my study, and then, finally, some much-needed sleep.

But as I pulled on my nightwear and prepared to head back into the bedroom, something felt off. I paused, sensing a presence in the room. My muscles tensed, and anger flared.

Who the hell has the audacity to enter my private quarters without permission?

The staff here were highly trained and knew better than to pull a stunt like this. It had to be someone new—someone unfamiliar with the palace's protocol. Or someone foolish enough to challenge the boundaries I had set.

I finished dressing quickly and stormed out of the closet, expecting to find the source of this intrusion. As I stepped into the bedroom, I saw her.

A young woman, her back to me, was arranging dishes on the table, oblivious to my presence. My anger surged, and I didn’t hold back.

"WHO ARE YOU?"

My voice echoed through the room, startling her so much that she dropped the jar she was holding. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter, rolling under the table. Slowly, she turned to face me, and for a moment, my anger dissolved into something else—curiosity, confusion.

Her eyes. They were the first thing I noticed. Big, blue, and strikingly similar to the eyes I had been thinking of just moments before. But that couldn’t be. It wasn’t her. My mind struggled to catch up as I took in the rest of her features—a heart-shaped face, soft and delicate, with high cheekbones and plump lips. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, slim, and standing no more than 5'6".

She was beautiful.

But I pushed that thought aside.

"My name is Amelia Winston, Your Highness," she said, her voice calm but gentle. Despite the situation, she met my gaze directly, without a hint of fear or deference. "I am the newly appointed maid."

There was something in the way she held herself, something I didn’t expect from someone in her position. She wasn’t intimidated. Most people didn’t look me directly in the eyes—they avoided it, perhaps out of respect for my status or out of fear. But this young woman didn’t seem fazed by either. She was bold. Brave, even.

"I will just clean up this mess, Your Highness," she added, her composure never faltering.

I gave her a curt nod and stepped aside, watching her as she knelt to retrieve the jar. My thoughts drifted, tugging me back to memories I tried to bury. The woman I couldn’t forget. The one whose name I still didn’t know, yet she occupied every corner of my heart.

I watched as Amelia cleaned up the spilled contents quickly and efficiently, then finished arranging the dishes on the table. She was graceful in her movements, professional, but there was something else—a quiet strength, perhaps. As she gathered her things and left the room, I found myself lingering on her presence a little longer than I should have.

Once she was gone, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. A strange feeling had settled over me, an unease I couldn’t quite shake. The encounter had been brief, but it had stirred something in me. Her eyes, her boldness—they lingered in my mind.

I lay down, pulling the sheets over me, but sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts kept drifting back to her, and not just to Amelia, but to the woman I had lost long ago. The one who had left a mark on my soul, even though I never learned her name. How was it possible that a mere maid could remind me of someone I had never been able to forget?

Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I fell into a deep sleep. But even in my dreams, her face—those blue eyes—haunted me.

Little did I know that this night would be the beginning of something far bigger. Something that

would alter the course of my life in ways I couldn’t yet imagine.