The Breaking Point.

The palace halls were filled with joyful chatters and laughter. In the Queen Mother's chamber, Theodore sat comfortably beside his grandmother, laughing softly as she told him an old story from her childhood. It was a sight Elena had never expected to see. 

And yet, here they were.

It had taken time, patience, and careful effort, but Elena had noticed the change. The Queen Mother, once distant and cold, had started softening toward Theodore. The boy's innocent heart, untouched by grudges, had slowly chipped away at the rigid walls of royal pride.

It was progress.

Elena smiled at the sight before stepping forward. "Theodore," she called gently.

He turned to her, his small face brightening. "Mama!"

She sat beside him, brushing a hand through his hair. "I have to go now, sweetheart. I'll be back after the weekend."

His smile faded slightly, but he nodded. "You promise?"

"Always my dear. You have Grandma and daddy to keep you company while I'm gone. I'll be here before you know it." She smiled softly while smoothing his hair. 

The Queen Mother cleared her throat. "He will be well cared for," she assured Elena, her tone softer than usual. It was strange, this newfound warmth.

"I know," she said, with a bright smile. 

After one last hug, Elena kissed Theodore's forehead and stood, her heart heavy but steady. She turned toward the door, as she walked toward the palace exit.

That was when she saw him.

Maxwell stood near the palace entrance, staring her down seductively as she walks towards him. 

"Elena," he greeted smoothly.

 "Your Majesty" she responded. 

"Your majesty ? How formal." He scoffed with a soft laugh. "How was he?"

"Happy."

"He's adjusting well, then?"

She nodded. "He is. Your mother, too."

Maxwell smirked. "That's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say."

"Neither did I." She huffed a soft smile. 

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. A rare, comfortable silence.

Then, Maxwell shifted, stepping closer. "Will you ever get used to this?" he asked.

Elena raised an eyebrow. "To what?"

"To this, coexisting with me. Seeing me every day."

She tilted her head slightly. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

He smiled attractively. "Doesn't this reignite something in you?" 

Something about the way he said it sent an odd warmth through her spine.

Then, before she could respond, Maxwell reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over the sleeve of her dress. It was casual. Effortless. As if touching her was second nature.

"Maxwell. Please stop…" 

"You don't have to run every weekend, you know."

She swallowed. "I'm not running."

He tilted his head. "Aren't you? Elena," he said quietly, stepping even closer. "We don't have to pretend anymore."

She clenched her jaw. "Pretend what?"

"That this is only about Theodore."

Her breath caught.

Maxwell exhaled, eyes darkening seductively as he looked at her. "I still love you."

This made her very uncomfortable. She should walk away. She should.

But his voice was so damn steady. So sure.

"You don't mean that," she said, barely above a whisper.

Maxwell's lips twitched. "When have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Do you really want me to answer that? We have a deal Max. Let's just get through with it until our son is stable enough. 

"Our son. Hmmmm…" His smirk faded slightly.

"Elena," he murmured.

Not again.

Before she could gather the strength to move, a sharp, cold voice cut through the air.

"How pathetic."

Francesca had seen everything.

At first, she had stood frozen in place, unable to process what was unfolding before her eyes. But as realization sank in, watching Maxwell look at Elena like that, watching him touch her, confess to her, rage burned through every nerve in her body.

She took a step forward, her heels clicking against the marble. Elena turned at the sound, her face instantly guarded.

Maxwell, however…

He didn't even flinch.

"You should be ashamed," she spat. "Both of you."

Elena sighed, like she didn't have the energy for this. "Francesca please…."

"Don't." Francesca's eyes flashed. "Don't stand there and act like you're innocent."

Elena exhaled sharply. "I never said I was."

Francesca let out a bitter laugh. "Of course not. Because that would require actual shame."

"Elena has nothing to be ashamed of." Maxwell cut in. 

Elena shifted uncomfortably, like she wanted to say something, but Francesca shot her a glare. "Don't," she snapped. "Don't you dare look at me like you pity me."

Elena held her gaze. "I don't."

The calmness in her voice made Francesca's blood boil even more.

"You think you've won, don't you?" she spat.

"Isn't it?" Francesca let out a bitter laugh. "Because it sure looks like you played me well. You disappeared for years, and just when Maxwell finally moved on, you show up again."

Maxwell scoffed. "Moved on?"

She turned to him, heart racing, waiting for him to deny it. But he didn't.

Instead, he shrugged. "I never moved on, Francesca. I settled."

Francesca felt like she'd been slapped.

For a moment, she just stood there, blinking, trying to process what he had just said. Trying to breathe.

Settled.

That's all their marriage had been to him.

Francesca's stomach turned at the sound of his voice. She turned to Maxwell, expecting at least some kind of remorse.

But there was none.

Instead, his gaze was calm. Unbothered. Like she wasn't even worth an argument.

Francesca's throat tightened. "So this is it, then?"

Maxwell barely spared her a glance. "This is what?"

Francesca swallowed, her voice unsteady. "You're really doing this?"

Maxwell finally looked at her. And the sheer indifference in his voice. "I never stopped," he said simply.

"You married me." She screamed. "For these past years I've been a perfect wife to you. A perfect Queen by you…"

He shrugged. "And?"

Francesca felt something crack inside her.

He didn't care.

After everything, after years, he didn't even care. She turned to Elena, her hands shaking. "You enjoy this, don't you?"

Elena held her gaze, calm and uninterested. "No, Francesca. I don't."

The sincerity in her voice only made Francesca's blood boil even more.

"This isn't over," Francesca hissed before storming away.

"Elena wait." Maxwell held Elena's hand as she tried to walk off. 

"Please, your majesty. I do not have the time for these…." She dragged her hands off and walked away. 

Francesca slammed the door to her chamber, her pulse racing. She had been humiliated.

Maxwell had discarded her, and Elena had let it happen. But she still had one move left.

Theodore.

Maxwell only cared about Elena because of that boy. If Theodore was no longer in the picture, if something tragic happened, then everything would change.

Maxwell would never forgive Elena. And their love would die. Her breathing slowed as she exhaled.

This wasn't just an idea. It was a solution.

To be continued…