**Part 2**
Across the Atlantic, the wedding had already begun.
The palace chapel was filled with diplomats, aristocrats, celebrities, military officers, and members of royal families.
Thousands of cameras focused on one woman.
Rachel.
She walked down the aisle beneath towering stone arches and golden chandeliers.
Her dress was magnificent.
Every detail was perfect.
The world saw an elegant bride.
A woman who had risen from an ordinary American childhood to marry into royalty.
But there was one empty space.
The king noticed it.
So did Prince Alexander.
And so did the woman sitting behind them.
Rachel’s mother.
My mother.
She sat rigidly in her chair.
Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
Because she knew something the cameras didn’t.
Rachel had not simply forgotten to invite her sister.
She had deliberately removed Emily Carter from the guest list.
And the king had discovered it.
The ceremony continued.
Rachel smiled.
The priest spoke.
Alexander repeated his vows.
The cameras flashed.
But halfway through the ceremony, the king leaned toward his private secretary.
“Have they found her?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Where is she?”
“Virginia.”
The king’s eyes closed briefly.
“Bring her here.”
“She is already on her way.”
He opened his eyes.
“And Rachel?”
The secretary hesitated.
“She doesn’t know.”
The king looked toward the altar.
His future daughter-in-law stood beside his son.
Beautiful.
Composed.
Perfect.
Then the king whispered,
“She should have told us the truth before today.”
I knew none of this.
I was somewhere over the Atlantic.
The aircraft cabin was quiet.
Eleanor had stopped talking.
I stared out at the clouds.
Eventually, I broke the silence.
“What exactly did my father do?”
Eleanor answered carefully.
“He protected the royal family during a period of political instability.”
“Was he intelligence?”
“Yes.”
I looked down.
“Did he have enemies?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why he died?”
Eleanor didn’t answer.
My voice became sharper.
“Is that why my father died?”
She finally said,
“We don’t know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You don’t know?”
“His death was officially classified as accidental.”
“But?”
“But there were inconsistencies.”
My heart sank.
“What inconsistencies?”
“The vehicle he was driving had been tampered with.”
I felt cold.
“Why wasn’t that investigated?”
“It was.”
“And?”
“The investigation was closed.”
“Why?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“Because someone very powerful ordered it closed.”
The cabin seemed to shrink.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then why bring me here?”
“Because someone recently reopened the file.”
“Who?”
Eleanor’s expression hardened.
“The king.”
I stared at her.
“Why now?”
She slid one final photograph across the table.
It showed my father.
But this photograph was different.
He was standing beside the king again.
Only this time, there was another person in the frame.
A woman.
I knew her.
I had seen her hundreds of times.
Rachel.
My sister.
But she wasn’t a child in the photograph.
She was an adult.
And the photograph had been taken only five years ago.
I stared at it in disbelief.
“That can’t be.”
Eleanor said nothing.
“Rachel told me she’d never met the king before she met Alexander.”
Eleanor looked down.
“She lied.”
My hands went numb.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what was she doing with him?”
“That,” Eleanor said quietly, “is what His Majesty wants to ask you.”
I stared at the photograph.
My sister was standing beside the king.
But she wasn’t smiling.
She looked frightened.
And behind them, partially hidden in the shadows, stood a man I didn’t recognize.
A man wearing an old military insignia.
The same insignia I had seen on my father’s uniform.
I pointed at him.
“Who is that?”
Eleanor’s face changed.
For the first time since we met, she looked genuinely afraid.
“That man,” she whispered, “is the reason your father died.”
The aircraft suddenly shook.
A warning light flashed overhead.
Everyone froze.
Then one of the royal guards entered the cabin.
“Madam?”
Eleanor stood.
“What is it?”
“We’ve received a message from the palace.”
“What message?”
The guard looked at me.
“His Majesty says the situation has changed.”
My heart began racing.
“How?”
The guard swallowed.
“Prince Alexander has just discovered that his bride knew Commander Carter’s father.”
I stood.
“What?”
The guard continued.
“And there is one more problem.”
“What?”
He looked directly at me.
“Your sister has disappeared.”
I stared at him.
“From the palace?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Seven minutes ago.”
Eleanor’s face went pale.
“She couldn’t have left.”
The guard handed her a phone.
“She did.”
Eleanor read the message on the screen.
Then she slowly looked up at me.
“What does it say?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Eleanor.”
She turned the phone toward me.
There was a single message.
Sent from Rachel’s phone.
To the king.
To the palace security office.
And now, apparently, to me.
The message contained only eight words:
Emily knows where our father hid the evidence.
I stared at the screen.
“I don’t know anything.”
Eleanor whispered,
“That’s what worries me.”
Because somewhere beneath the lies, the missing years, the secret military file, and my sister’s perfect royal wedding was a truth my father had died protecting.
And apparently…
Rachel believed I knew where he had hidden it.
I didn’t.
But someone else did.
And that person had just realized the king was looking for me.
