#Chapter 89: Fallout

Elsa’s press conference was streamed live on every major platform, each broadcast framed with pulsing headlines and dramatic voiceovers, like the world had just uncovered a royal scandal instead of a personal vendetta. I watched the first thirty seconds on mute from the couch in my apartment, laptop balanced on my knees, trying not to let my fingers shake around the trackpad. The hum of the refrigerator and the clink of Emma stirring tea in the kitchen buzzed louder than any of the voices on screen, though I could still feel the weight of every word. She stood tall at the podium, eyes rimmed in red, jaw trembling with the effort of what she wanted to pass off as righteous bravery. It was a performance, that much was clear. She claimed to be “breaking her silence for the good of the kingdom,” but the way she weaponized her voice told a different story. Richard was painted as a tyrant, and I was cast as the foolish orphan girl too naive to see how I was being used. She said nothing out