Her Unwanted Prince Husband

He was dirt-covered, a stablehand my father forced me to marry, and I made his life a living hell. I called him "Dusty," scoffed at his quiet dignity, and humiliated him at every turn.

Then, in a flash of unexpected strength, he saved me from a pack of drunken nobles, and for one fleeting night, he was just Finn, a man I finally saw beyond the grime. I was even carrying his child-a secret I cherished. But that fragile hope shattered when royal guards bowed to him, revealing my stablehand husband was the long-lost Crown Prince.

Suddenly, I was cast aside like yesterday' s trash, replaced by a perfect Lady Eleanor. Finn' s icy rejection cut deeper than any insult I had delivered. When my father was framed for treason and thrown into prison, facing death, I swallowed my pride and begged Finn for help, only to be met with contempt and a cruel proposition.

How could the man who once whispered my name with tenderness now view me with such disdain? Why couldn't he see the impossible choice I was forced to make? Why did he believe the worst of me, even as I was desperate to save my family?

Pushed to the brink, with no one else to turn to, I made a desperate, impossible choice to protect my father and my unborn children. I would fake my own death and vanish, choosing a future where I could build a life of purpose, far from the palace and the prince who had broken my heart.

I remember the man I used to call Dusty. For two years, he was my husband, a stablehand my father forced me to marry, and I made his life a living hell. I never imagined that the dirt-covered man I despised was actually Finn, the long-lost Crown Prince of the empire.

The same man who now stood before me, cold and unforgiving, the father of the child I carried in secret. It all started with a mistake, a web of fate I could never have predicted.

My father, Mr. Hayes, had built a merchant empire from nothing, making our family one of the wealthiest in the capital, but wealth could not buy us a title. He arranged my marriage to the son of a high-ranking official, a match that would have secured our social standing. But on the way to the engagement ceremony, my carriage broke down.

It was Finn, a simple stablehand from a nearby inn, who fixed the wheel. My father, always a believer in signs and omens, saw this as a twist of fate. He canceled my prestigious engagement and, in a move that shocked everyone, declared I would marry the stablehand. I was horrified.

I was Scarlett Hayes, the most beautiful woman in the city, and I was being shackled to a man who smelled of horses and dirt. I begged, I screamed, I cried, but my father' s mind was made up. So I married him, and I promised myself I would make him regret it every single day.

I refused to call him by his name, instead giving him the nickname "Dusty." I made him sleep on the floor, eat leftovers in the kitchen, and perform the most demeaning chores for my amusement. I would parade him in front of my friends, pointing out the grime under his fingernails and mocking his silent obedience.

He never once complained, his face a mask of stoicism that only enraged me more. He endured every insult, every act of cruelty, with a quiet dignity I couldn't understand.

Then came the night that changed everything. I was cornered by a group of drunken nobles at a banquet, their hands grabbing at me, their leering faces a nightmare. Suddenly, Finn was there. He moved with a speed and force I had never seen, dispatching the men with brutal efficiency. He wasn't just a stablehand, he was a fighter, strong and protective. He carried me away from the scene, and for the first time, I saw something other than indifference in his eyes.

It was a flicker of concern, of possession. Back in our room, the air was thick with unspoken tension. I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the man beneath the dirt. The anger and resentment I had harbored for two years melted away, replaced by a confusing mix of gratitude and raw attraction. That night, I didn't send him to the floor. I pulled him into my bed, and for the first time, our marriage was consummated.

In the weeks that followed, something shifted between us. I stopped calling him Dusty. I found myself watching him, waiting for him. The cruelty was gone, replaced by a hesitant curiosity.

Then the morning sickness started. Dr. Miller confirmed it, I was pregnant. A strange sort of joy filled me, a feeling I never expected. I was going to have a child with Finn. I decided to tell him, to finally try and build a real life with him. I found him in the garden, and I was about to speak, to share the news that would change our lives forever, when a procession of royal guards stormed into our home. They bowed low, not to me or my father, but to Finn.

"Your Highness," their leader said, "The Emperor and Empress have found you. It is time to return to the palace." My world tilted on its axis. Dusty, my stablehand husband, was the Crown Prince. The man I had tormented was the future ruler of the empire.

The man who returned to the palace was not the quiet stablehand I knew. He was Prince Finn, a figure of immense power and authority. The warmth I had started to feel from him vanished, replaced by an icy wall of formality. He looked at me as if I were a stranger, a distasteful memory from a life he was eager to forget.

He announced his official engagement to Lady Eleanor, a woman of perfect breeding and grace. When I tried to speak to him alone, to tell him about our baby, he cut me off. "That part of my life is over," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"We will have our marriage annulled. I want nothing more to do with you." The words shattered my heart. I fled, unable to bear the public humiliation and his cold rejection. I hid myself away, determined to raise my child alone.

My quiet life was destroyed a few months later. News came that my father, Mr. Hayes, had been arrested. He was framed for treason, accused of conspiring against the crown.

The charges were absurd, a blatant political attack orchestrated by someone with immense power. He was thrown into the imperial prison, and a death sentence loomed over his head. My mother was a wreck, and my younger brother, Liam, paced the house like a caged animal, talking wildly of breaking our father out of prison. We were powerless. Our wealth was meaningless against the might of the state.

My mother, her face stained with tears, came to me, her hands trembling as she clutched mine. "Scarlett, you must go to him," she pleaded.

"You are still his wife, legally. He is the only one who can save your father." The thought of facing Finn again made me physically ill. He hated me. He had cast me aside without a second thought for me or our unborn child. How could I possibly ask him for help? But looking at my mother's devastated face, thinking of my father wasting away in a cold cell, I knew I had no other choice.

Swallowing my pride and my pain, I went to the royal palace. I stood before the imposing gates, my heart pounding in my chest. I was a commoner asking for an audience with the Crown Prince, the man I had once ordered to scrub floors.

When I was finally led into his presence, he was sitting behind a massive desk in a lavishly decorated office, looking every bit the prince he was. He didn't look up when I entered. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. He looked at me then, his eyes sweeping over my simple dress and my slightly rounded belly. "Have you come for money? I can arrange a settlement. Name your price." His words were a slap in the face.

I knelt before him, the cold marble floor a shock against my knees. "Your Highness," I began, my voice shaking. "I haven't come for myself. My father... he's been framed. He's innocent. I beg you, please help him." As I spoke, my emotions overwhelmed me. I stumbled forward, losing my balance, and pitched directly into his arms.

For a moment, I was pressed against his chest, the familiar scent of him filling my senses, a scent I hadn't realized I missed. His body was rigid, unyielding. He pushed me away as if I were something vile. I scrambled back to my knees, tears streaming down my face. "Please, Finn. I'll do anything. Please save my father."

He looked down at me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips. "Anything?" he repeated slowly, savoring the word. His gaze was predatory, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. "Very well, Scarlett. You want my help?" He stood up and walked around the desk, stopping right in front of me. He leaned down, his face inches from mine.

"You will come with me. And you will prove just how desperate you are." He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, and pulled me to my feet. He dragged me out of the office and through the winding corridors of the palace, his destination a place I feared would be the stage for my ultimate humiliation.

Finn dragged me into a private chamber, the door slamming shut behind us with a sound that sealed my fate. He threw me onto a plush sofa, the force of it knocking the wind out of me. I scrambled to sit up, my hand instinctively going to my stomach to protect the life growing inside me. "Finn, stop!" I tried to protest, but my voice was weak.

He stood over me, a terrifying silhouette against the dim light of the room. He easily pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, his strength overwhelming. "Stop? You come to me, begging. You fall into my arms, crying. Is this your new strategy, Scarlett? Playing the victim?" His voice was low and dangerous, each word a cold drop of poison.

"No! I'm not playing at anything! My father is going to die!" I sobbed, struggling against his grip. It was useless, he was far too strong. I was a trapped animal, and the fear was so intense it made me nauseous. He stared down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. I saw the memory of every insult, every humiliation I had ever dealt him, reflected in their depths. He was going to make me pay for all of it.

"You want me to save your father?" he whispered, his face so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Then you will have to please me. You will have to show me that you're truly sorry for the past two years." He released my wrists, and I immediately curled into a ball, trying to make myself smaller. He saw the movement, and a humorless smile touched his lips. "I see you're not so eager to please. In that case, I will leave. Your father can rot in his cell."

My heart stopped. He was serious. He would let my father die, all because of his hatred for me. The thought of my gentle, loving father suffering a traitor's death was unbearable. I couldn't let that happen. But how could I do what he was asking? I was pregnant. Dr. Miller had warned me to avoid any stress or physical strain. What Finn was demanding could very well harm my babies. The secret I was so desperate to protect was now a weapon against me.

I remembered a story my maid once told me, about a noblewoman who had an affair and became pregnant. When her powerful lover found out, he feared the scandal and forced her to drink a potion to get rid of the child. She died along with her baby. The story sent a chill through me. If Finn knew I was pregnant with his child, a child he had already rejected, what would he do? Would he see it as a loose end, a threat to his new life and his engagement to Lady Eleanor? The risk was too great. I couldn't tell him.

He turned his back to me, his hand on the doorknob. "I'm losing my patience, Scarlett." His voice was final. Panic clawed at my throat. It was my father's life or my pride. The choice was no choice at all. "Wait!" I cried out, my voice hoarse. He paused, his back still to me. I took a shaky breath, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and self-loathing. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want."

He turned around slowly, a look of cold triumph on his face. He walked back towards me, his eyes raking over my body. I felt stripped bare under his gaze. "Good," he said simply. I forced myself to uncurl, to sit up straight. My hands shook as I reached for the buttons on my dress. My fingers were clumsy, fumbling with the fabric. I felt like a fool, clumsy and pathetic. He watched me, his expression one of utter disdain. "Is this how you try to please a man? You're as inept at this as you were at being a wife."

His words hurt more than a physical blow. I thought back to that one night, the only time he had touched me with anything approaching tenderness. He had been so gentle then, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of hurting me. He had whispered my name, and for a fleeting moment, I had felt cherished. Where was that man now? This person in front of me was a stranger, a cruel tyrant who delighted in my suffering.

My tears started to fall again, hot and silent. I couldn't stop them. I hated him for making me so weak, so helpless. I hated myself for what I was about to do. As I finally managed to undo the last button, he suddenly moved. He lunged forward, grabbing me and throwing me onto the bed. The world spun, and before I could react, he was on top of me, his weight pinning me down. His actions were frantic, almost savage. He ripped at my clothes, his touch rough and impersonal.

This wasn't passion, it was punishment. It was a violent claiming of what he believed was his right. The pain and humiliation were too much. My vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The last thing I heard before I passed out was the sound of my own heart, hammering a frantic rhythm of terror in my ears.

When I woke up, I was alone in the room, my body aching and sore. The bedsheets were a mess, and my torn dress was lying in a heap on the floor. For a wild, hopeful moment, I thought it had all been a terrible nightmare. But then he walked back into the room, fully dressed, his face as cold and impassive as ever. "Finn," I whispered, my voice raw. "My father... you promised."

He looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before they turned to ice. "I promised nothing," he said flatly. "You offered yourself. I took what was offered. That doesn't mean I owe you anything." He tossed a small pouch of gold onto the bed. "This is for your troubles. Now get dressed and get out of my sight." The pouch landed next to me, the jingle of the coins a final, brutal insult. He turned and walked out, leaving me broken and utterly, devastatingly alone.