818 Chapter 817

Amy immediately nodded. "I am Daddy's daughter."

"Amy, stop saying that," Keira said, gently pulling her daughter closer. "Don't call him that."

"But, Mom, he is Dad!" Amy insisted, her tiny face lighting up with conviction.

Keira sighed, torn between amusement and exasperation. "How could you possibly know that?"

Amy opened her mouth, about to say, "Because you told me..." when a group of people suddenly entered the room.

Keira's attention shifted immediately. The newcomers were unmistakably from Country A, their features bearing subtle differences from those native to Crera. They moved purposefully toward Monbatten, their expressions radiating tension.

Keira frowned and leaned closer to Jenkins. "Who are they?" she whispered.

Jenkins, ever observant, lowered his voice. "They're from the royal family. The one leading the group is Monbatten's older brother. When their father passed, there was a brutal fight for the throne between the two of them. Monbatten came out on top and has kept his brother firmly in check since. His brother's been keeping a low profile for years but recently resurfaced, likely because Monbatten hasn't produced an heir." Jenkins glanced at the entourage, his tone darkening. "If I had to guess, they're here to force his hand."

her attention back to the drama unfolding in front of her. Monbatten's older brother stopped a few steps away from him, his expression

Monbatten's face darkened.

was diplomatic, but his tone was firm.

faint, insincere smile. "I've come to discuss a matter of national importance with the king. Surely, you won't stand in the way

behind the prince. "We weren't informed of your arrival,"

breezily. "They know how

the group of armed guards behind his brother. He stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You brought armed men to my

fine back home. The people are restless, Monbatten. You've ruled well, but without

boy of about ten. "This is my eldest son," he said smoothly. "Your nephew. Strong, healthy, and already well-educated. I'm offering him to you as

muttered under his breath, "Ridiculous. Monbatten's only thirty. If he's going to adopt, it should be

This wasn't just presumptuous—it was

not

young. What if he doesn't survive? Losing an infant would shake public confidence even more. No, my eldest is the perfect candidate. He's old enough to represent

nudged the boy forward. "Go

"Father," he said, his voice clear and confident, "I'll

face darkened further. "You're getting ahead of yourself,"

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