The grand ballroom of the St. Jude Palace smelled of imported orchids, expensive champagne, and desperate tradition.
Crown Prince Julian stood on the upper terrace, his hand resting on the marble railing as he watched the crowd below. The gold epaulets on his jacket felt heavy, but not as heavy as the private ledger sitting in his father's safe. Centuries of immaculate royal legacy had masked a bitter reality: the crown was essentially bankrupt.
Then she walked into the room, and the air shifted.
Ruby Vance didn't bow to royalty; she bought it. At twenty-two, she had turned a tech-logistics empire into a global superpower with a net worth that dwarfed the kingdom’s entire treasury. She wore a tailored velvet dress the color of crushed emeralds, moving through the crowd of aristocrats like a predator among sheep.
Julian’s jaw tightened. He had loathed her since they were teenagers. While he was trained to respect legacy and duty, Ruby looked at the monarchy and saw nothing more than bad debt and inefficiency. She made no effort to hide her contempt for his title, and he made no effort to hide his disdain for her cold, transactional worldview.
"You're glaring, Julian," a voice purred behind him.
Julian turned to see Queen Consort Beatrice step into the shadows of the terrace. His stepmother was only five years older than him, married to his ailing father during a political storm three years ago. Her smile was far too smooth as her hand lingered on his arm.
"It's uncouth to stare at a commoner, no matter how many billions she commands," Beatrice murmured, her dark eyes tracking Ruby. "Besides, your father and I are finalizing a match for you with Duke Marcus's sister. Someone who understands traditional obedience."
Julian pulled his arm away coldly. "I don't need a handler, Beatrice."
Down on the floor, Ruby was surrounded by suitors—Lord Alistair offering wine, Duke Marcus posturing about his vineyards. Ruby answered them with a razor-sharp smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Suddenly, her gaze cut straight up to the terrace.
Their eyes locked across the gilded hall. Ruby raised her champagne glass in a silent, mocking toast, her dark eyes flashing with pure arrogance. Julian felt his blood boil.
Before he could step away, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. A red emergency notification flashed on the screen from the Royal Treasury: Hostile foreclosure initiated on the palace grounds. Mortgage defaulted.
Julian's head snapped up. Down on the floor, Ruby was sliding her phone back into her clutch, her mocking smile widening as she looked right at him.
She hadn't just attended the ball to flaunt her wealth. She had just bought his home out from under him.