Laughter and music filled the crisp autumn air as nobles from across the realm celebrated the Harvest Moon Festival.

The castle courtyard blazed with torchlight and the warm glow of countless lanterns, while lords and ladies in their finest silk and velvet gowns danced beneath the star-scattered sky.

But for Prince Sebastian, the festivities felt like a crushing weight on his shoulders.

His father, King Edward, had insisted he attend tonight, sending him as the royal representative as he so often did.

It was no secret that the King and Duke Alexandro had maintained a close friendship for decades—more like father and son than mere political allies.

Sebastian stood at the edge of the celebration, a goblet of untouched wine in his hand, his gaze drifting toward the center of the courtyard where Duke Alexandro held court.

The Duke stood with obvious pride and joy radiating from his weathered features.

A stunning woman with auburn hair and kind eyes stood beside him, and as she leaned into his embrace, her face tilted toward his with unmistakable adoration, Sebastian understood immediately.

Duke Alexandro had found love again.

“Lucky bastard,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, turning away from the couple whose happiness seemed to mock his own miserable existence.

As much as he hated admitting it, he couldn’t deny the sharp pang of envy that pierced his chest.

He should feel genuine joy for Duke Alexandro, who had suffered such devastating loss.

Instead, all Sebastian could think about was his own emptiness—the hollow ache that had consumed him for five long years.

He excused himself from the festivities with a quick bow to nearby courtiers and slipped toward the quieter sections of the castle grounds, hoping to find some measure of peace among the shadowed gardens and ancient stone walkways.

The cold mountain air hit him like a physical blow, and Sebastian breathed it in deeply, trying to push aside the tumultuous emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

His father would be expecting a detailed report of the evening’s diplomatic exchanges, expecting him to play the role of the dutiful crown prince.

But how could he maintain such pretenses when his life felt like nothing more than scattered fragments of broken dreams?

Five years had passed since that terrible night when he had discovered Evangeline’s pregnancy and her subsequent disappearance.

Five years of sleepless nights, of sending agents across every kingdom and duchy searching for any trace of her whereabouts.

Five years of wondering about the children he had never met—his legitimate heirs who had vanished into the night like ghosts.

As he walked deeper into the castle’s gardens, he decided to seek out the servants’ quarters where he might find a basin of water to clear his head.

Perhaps cold water on his face would help him regain the composure necessary to fulfill his royal duties.

But as he rounded the corner near the castle’s ancient chapel, he collided with something small and solid, something soft, something unmistakably human.

“Forgive me, young sir,” Sebastian said instinctively, reaching out to steady the small figure.

He looked down to see a boy of perhaps five years, blinking up at him with startled but curious eyes.

The child’s dark hair was tousled from play, and his fine clothes bore the evidence of an evening spent celebrating, small stains from festival treats and dirt from running through the castle grounds.

Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s obvious innocence and wonder.

“Are you injured?” Sebastian asked, crouching down to the child’s level with practiced grace.

But when he truly looked at the boy’s face, his heart stopped beating entirely.

The child’s eyes were identical to his own, the same piercing blue that had been passed down through generations of royal bloodline.

The same aristocratic bone structure, the same proud tilt of the chin, the same dark hair that caught moonlight like polished obsidian.

It was as if Sebastian were gazing at a miniature reflection of himself.

Sebastian froze completely, his breath catching in his throat like a trapped bird. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Marcus!” another voice called out, young and urgent. “Mother said we must not wander alone!”

A second boy came racing around the corner, his small boots clicking against the stone pathway.

This child was equally striking, bearing the same unmistakable royal features as his companion.

When the two boys stood together, the resemblance between them was undeniable, and their resemblance to Sebastian was even more profound.

“Who… who are you?” Sebastian whispered, the question directed more toward the universe than to the children themselves.

His mind reeled, struggling to process the impossible reality unfolding before him.

These were his sons. His legitimate heirs. The twins Evangeline had been carrying when she fled into the night.

The boy named Marcus tilted his head with curious innocence. “I am Marcus, Your Highness,” he said with the careful politeness that had obviously been drilled into him. “This is my brother Adrian. We live here with Uncle Alexandro.”

Uncle Alexandro.

The words hit Sebastian like a war hammer. Duke Alexandro, his father’s closest ally, had been harboring his missing wife and children for five years.

Then, as if fate had decided he needed an even greater shock, a figure appeared in the garden archway behind the boys.

Sebastian’s breath caught in his chest as he slowly raised his gaze.

There, illuminated by torchlight and moonbeams, stood the last person he had ever expected to see again.

Evangeline.

She stood there looking even more beautiful than he remembered, more mature, more regal, with an inner strength that had not existed during their troubled marriage.

Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and her eyes, those emerald eyes that had once held such love for him, now reflected something far more guarded and cautious.

Evangeline’s gaze locked with his across the garden pathway, and for one eternal moment, the entire world seemed to stop turning.