The King’s Amnesty

1 Always quick to forgive, I lived by my "King’s Theory." A King, in a moment of great joy, grants absolute amnesty to his kingdom. So when my fiancé Julian abandoned me at our engagement party after a panicked call from my stepsister Kelly, making me Seattle high society’s laughingstock, I forgave him. He just had to hand me a slice of strawberry mousse cake the next day. When I was rushed to the ER with a violent fever on a stormy night and he hung up on my desperate calls because he was busy watching fireworks with her, I forgave him too. A handwritten apology note the next morning was all it took for me to pretend my heart hadn't broken. But this time, everything changed. Kelly drove drunk and committed a hit-and-run. To protect her, Julian manipulated the timeline and made me the prime suspect at the police precinct. Standing outside the holding cell, I watched them huddle together in the dim corridor. Kelly’s eyes were red. "Julian, Grace is taking the fall for me. When she gets out, she's going to hate me. What if she never speaks to me again?" Julian nonchalantly wiped a tear from her cheek. "Relax. You know how she is. Grace never holds a grudge. She's got a short memory. She's the easiest person in the world to coax. Once the dust settles, I'll just buy her that designer necklace she's been looking at, say a few sweet words, and she'll completely forget this ever happened." I leaned quietly against the cold concrete wall. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just felt that warm, beating place in my chest slowly freeze over, inch by agonizing inch. I was a King. I had granted them amnesty countless times before. But they forgot one crucial detail. A King possesses the mercy to grant pardons, but also holds the absolute power to strip everything away. From this moment forward, my world would never issue another pardon for either of them. … Forty-eight hours later, I walked out of the precinct. Julian’s Maybach was idling at the curb. Seeing me emerge, he pushed the car door open, his brow slightly furrowed. I slid into the passenger seat, my stomach violently spasming. I had spent two nights in a freezing, pitch-black holding cell. I hadn't had a drop of water or a bite of food, and my chronic stomach ulcers had flared up with a vengeance. A velvet box was casually tossed into my lap. "The new Van Cleef release." "My lawyer already handled the paperwork." "I've got people pulling strings for the rest of the legal process. This won't leave a mark on your permanent record. Consider the matter closed." He paused, glancing at me before adding one last command. "When we get home, do not give Kelly attitude." "She has been so guilty she hasn't eaten in two days. You know how fragile she is, don't scare her." I looked down at the expensive jewelry box resting on my knees. It was exactly word-for-word what he had promised her in the corridor. One necklace, a few smooth words, and he thought he could buy out the injustice of me taking the fall for a crime I didn't commit. He thought he could buy out forty-eight hours of sheer terror. I didn't speak. I didn't put the necklace on and ask him how it looked, like I would have in the past. I just calmly shoved the box into my purse. Julian watched me from the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening slightly. When we pushed the front door open, the smell of roasted chicken and warm soup filled the foyer. Kelly was walking out of the kitchen, carefully holding a large porcelain bowl of hot soup. Seeing me, her eyes immediately welled with tears. "Grace, you're back." When I just stood in the entryway staring at her, Julian kicked off his shoes and frowned. "What are you just standing there for? Kelly spent the entire morning cooking to welcome you home. Go wash your hands and sit down." The agonizing cramps in my stomach were shooting up my spine. My fingertips were completely numb from the pain. "I'm not hungry. I just want to sleep." My voice was incredibly light. I bypassed them both, heading straight for the staircase. "Grace!" Kelly suddenly took two quick steps forward, blocking my path. She held the boiling hot bowl of pork rib soup, looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes. "Grace, I know you blame me, but I swear it was an accident. Please." "Just take one sip of the soup. If you drink it, that means you forgive me, right?" She stepped uncomfortably close. The scalding steam from the broth hit my face. "Move." I frowned, reaching out to lightly push her wrists aside so I could pass. I barely used any force at all. Kelly suddenly let out a sharp gasp, her wrists twisting dramatically. "Ah!" More than half of the boiling, thick soup cascaded directly over my left hand and forearm. The heat was so intense my entire body locked up. I couldn't even force a scream out of my throat. "Kelly!" Julian's furious voice exploded from behind me. He took two massive strides forward, violently pulling Kelly behind his back to shield her. "Grace, have you lost your mind?!" Julian gripped Kelly’s wrists tightly, checking her for burns. "Are you determined to turn this house into a warzone?!" The back of my hand and my forearm were already blistering, turning a sickening, angry red. But Julian didn't even glance at me. His eyes were entirely focused on the two pathetic tears rolling down Kelly’s cheeks. "I told you, I already handled the police! I bought you the damn necklace! What more do you want from us?!" Julian’s voice was dripping with exhaustion and bitter disappointment. "Just because you had to sit in a police station for two days, you think you have the right to take your rage out on a little girl?!" He didn't know that the police hadn't given me a single cup of warm water. He didn't know I nearly died in that cell from a gastric hemorrhage. I didn't look at him. I didn't look at Kelly cowering like a frightened rabbit behind his broad shoulders. Without a single word of defense, I turned on my heel, walked into the downstairs bathroom, and locked the door. Outside, I could hear Kelly’s suppressed, theatrical sobbing. "Julian, she hates me. I know she hates me!" "I swear I didn't mean to, the bowl was just so heavy, I lost my grip..." "It's okay." Julian’s voice was remarkably gentle as he comforted her. "She is just throwing a temper tantrum because she was stuck in lockup. She is using you as a punching bag. Let her cool off overnight, she will be fine tomorrow." Using her as a punching bag? I looked at my ghostly pale face in the bathroom mirror and let out a dry, broken chuckle. I didn't sleep a single minute that night. I had been freezing and starving for two days. I tore through my bedside drawer, desperately looking for my prescription ulcer medication. The drawer was completely empty. The pain was so blinding I didn't have the strength to stand up. I curled into a tight ball on the bedroom rug, pressing my hands brutally into my stomach just to breathe. When dawn finally broke, I leaned heavily against the wall and dragged myself out of the bedroom. Kelly was arranging pastries on the dining table. When she saw me, her eyes darted away guiltily. I ignored her entirely, walking straight toward the kitchen trash can. At a glance, I spotted my white prescription bottle resting quietly at the bottom of the bin, covered in coffee grounds. "Grace..." Kelly walked over, her voice mousey and small. "I was cleaning your room last night. I saw that bottle didn't have a label on it. I thought it was just expired vitamins, so I threw it out." "I warmed up some milk for you. You should drink it." Drinking milk on a completely empty stomach would only severely aggravate my bleeding ulcers. I didn't say a word. I bent down to fish the bottle out of the trash. There were exactly two pills left inside. I needed them to survive the morning. "Grace, the trash is dirty!" Kelly suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my left wrist with a vice grip. She grabbed the exact spot where the boiling soup had melted my skin yesterday. Even through the fabric of my long sleeve, her nails dug in. The bone-piercing agony blacked out my vision for a second. Pure survival instinct took over, and I violently yanked my arm back to break her grip. "Ah!" Kelly screamed, stumbling backward. As fate would have it, she knocked over the glass of hot milk on the coffee table. The glass shattered across the floor. She threw her hands down to catch her fall, pressing her palm directly into the broken shards. Blood immediately pooled on the hardwood. "Grace!" A vicious roar echoed from the top of the stairs. Julian sprinted down the steps, aggressively shoving me aside, and dropped to his knees to help Kelly up. "Julian, it wasn't Grace's fault..." Kelly's eyes were red, sucking in sharp breaths of pain as blood dripped from her hand. "I lost my balance. She was just trying to dig her pills out of the trash, and I didn't want her to get her hands dirty..." Julian looked at the unlabeled, dirty plastic bottle in my hand. Then he looked at Kelly’s bleeding palm. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes dark with fury. "A bottle of expired melatonin. You threw a fit over melatonin?" Melatonin. So in his eyes, the nights I spent writhing in agony, relying on medication just to stay conscious... he thought I just had mild insomnia. I stared down at him. "I didn't push her. She grabbed my burn." Julian’s gaze flicked to my left arm for a fraction of a second. "She was just trying to stop you from digging through the garbage. Even if she bumped you, you're the older sister. Can't you show a shred of grace?" Julian took a deep, stabilizing breath, trying to reign in his temper. "Grace, I know you took a hit for Kelly, and you're traumatized." "That is why I fixed the police issue. That is why I bought you the jewelry." "Your record is clean. I thought we were past this." "But ever since you walked through that door last night, you have been acting like a martyr." "And now, over an empty pill bottle, you take your rage out on Kelly and shove her into broken glass." "When did you become so vicious?" Vicious. The word slipped from the mouth of the man I had loved for seven years. It dropped like an anvil onto my chest. I didn't argue. If this had happened a month ago, I would have smashed the pill bottle against the wall. I would have thrown my medical diagnosis papers right in his face. I would have rolled up my sleeve and forced him to look at the weeping, infected blisters on my arm. I would have screamed at him, asking how he could be so incredibly blind. But now? That place in my heart that used to ache at his misunderstandings... It was completely, utterly numb. The misunderstandings, the blatant favoritism. None of it mattered anymore. "You're right." I looked at him calmly, brushed the coffee grounds off the two pills, and swallowed them dry. "I am vicious." Julian froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to admit it so easily. The long, disappointed lecture he had prepared died in his throat. It was like he had thrown a knockout punch into a pillow. "Good. Glad you realize it." He offered a stiff, awkward reply. "There is an industry gala this afternoon. Go change your clothes, you're coming with me." "There are a lot of rumors circulating about your arrest. We need to make a public appearance to shut them down." He was so used to my compromises. He was used to the fact that if he offered me even the slightest sliver of a ladder, I would obediently climb down and resume playing the role of the perfect, understanding fiancée. Just like a King expects his subjects to fall to their knees in gratitude when he issues a pardon. I picked up my trench coat from the sofa and walked toward the front door. "I'm not going." "Grace!" Julian barked my name from across the room. "How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?" I pulled the heavy oak door open. The blinding morning sunlight rushed in, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. "It's not a tantrum." I didn't look back. I just spoke with terrifying clarity. The King has revoked all pardons. Julian, I am done playing your game. After leaving the house, I drove straight to the downtown trauma center. I registered, waited in line, and walked into the burn unit. When the doctor used trauma shears to cut the sleeve of my shirt open, he let out a sharp hiss. The fabric had completely melted into my skin. "How did you let a burn get this bad? The blistering is severe and the tissue is already necrotic. Why are you just now coming in?" The doctor frowned deeply, scolding me as he prepped the surgical tray for debridement. "The wound bed is extremely deep. Are you sure you can handle this without local anesthesia?" I looked at the sterile tray, visualizing the dead tissue that was about to be scraped away, and shook my head. "It's fine. Just do it. I'm used to it." The pain was so intense it felt like my nerves were being electrocuted with every breath. But compared to the persistent, hollow freezing sensation in my chest, the physical agony actually felt grounding. It felt real. After scraping away the dead skin and heavily bandaging my arm, the doctor told me to go to the first-floor pharmacy to pick up heavy antibiotics and proper ulcer medication. I was shivering violently from the shock. As soon as I stepped into the main lobby, I stopped dead in my tracks. Julian was standing near the pharmacy windows. He was holding a paper cup of perfectly lukewarm water, handing it gently to Kelly, who was sitting on a waiting bench. Kelly had a small, waterproof band-aid placed delicately over the center of her right palm. The ghost of a tear still clung to her eyelashes. "Does it still hurt?" "Dr. Lin personally checked it. No nerve damage. It won't affect your piano recital next week. Just keep it dry for a few days." I stood in the middle of the crowded hospital lobby, quietly watching the scene unfold. So he was capable of being attentive. When I was locked in the holding cell, burning up with a terrifying fever, I begged a sympathetic officer to let me use the phone. When I called Julian, begging him to bring me some medication, he just sighed impatiently into the receiver. "Grace, can you please stop fighting for attention right now?" "Kelly was so terrified by the police taking you away that she spiked a fever. I am at the clinic with her while she gets an IV. Drink some hot water and tough it out." And then, he hung up on me. You see, he knew exactly what true heartbreak and worry looked like. He just never wasted those emotions on me. Kelly spotted me first. She practically jumped off the bench, the water sloshing in her cup. "Grace... what are you doing here?" Julian whipped his head around. He took long, aggressive strides toward me, his eyes locking onto the plastic pharmacy bag in my good hand. "Are you stalking us?" He looked down at me, his voice saturated with absolute disgust. "Grace, just because I didn't coddle you over an empty pill bottle this morning?" "You felt the need to fake an illness and track us to the hospital just to play the victim?" "I wasn't stalking you." My throat was parched. I didn't have the energy to argue. I stepped to the side, trying to walk past him toward the exit. "Stop right there." Julian shot his hand out, clamping his fingers like a vice directly around my left forearm. He grabbed the exact spot where the doctor had just finished scraping the dead flesh from my burn. My survival instinct kicked in, and I violently wrenched my arm away. "Do not touch me!" I stumbled backward, slamming heavily into the cold marble wall. Julian froze, staring at his empty hand, clearly shocked that I had forcefully rejected his touch. Then, he let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Your temper is really getting out of hand." Kelly hurried over, her eyes immediately welling with fresh tears. "Grace, please don't be mad at Julian." "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come to the hospital for a little cut." "But Julian insisted. He said since I play the piano, my hands can't have any scars, so he forced me to see the chief specialist..." Julian stepped forward, shielding Kelly behind him again, glaring at me with eyes like daggers. "Did you hear her?" "Kelly is a pianist. Do you have any idea how valuable her hands are?" "You pushed her this morning on purpose. If she hit a nerve on that glass, what would you have done?!" I stared at Julian—the man whose face had once made me willing to sacrifice absolutely everything—and felt nothing but profound absurdity. Right. I was an architectural designer. My hands drew blueprints. My hands built careers. But he had completely forgotten that. His entire universe revolved around Kelly’s piano recital next week. He had completely forgotten that I had a massive, career-defining solo design exhibition next month. An exhibition I had spent three years preparing for. He had forgotten that the centerpiece of the entire exhibition... Was the custom wedding band set I had designed for us. The pain radiating from my arm was sapping the last of my strength, making my vision blur. "Julian, just let it go..." Kelly whispered, clinging to his sleeve. "Grace looks really pale. Maybe she actually is sick?" Julian swept a cold, dismissive look over me, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What could possibly be wrong with her? It's the same routine every time. Play the victim, give me the silent treatment, and wait for me to grovel." He checked his Rolex, his patience entirely exhausted. "Grace, I am telling you this one last time." "You are attending the gala with me this afternoon." "Go home and change your clothes. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked toward the hospital exit, Kelly scurrying close behind. I leaned against the marble wall, watching their perfectly matched silhouettes disappear through the sliding glass doors, before slowly sinking onto a waiting bench. A single drop of fresh blood seeped through my black sleeve and splattered onto the pristine floor tiles. I didn't call out to him. I didn't cry out in pain. I didn't even turn my head to watch him leave. I just leaned my head back against the wall, closed my eyes, and pulled out my phone. I dialed my lawyer. "Mr. Williams. I need you to draft a formal dissolution of engagement contract immediately." I stared at the drop of blood on the floor. My voice was so calm, so devoid of emotion, that it didn't even sound like my own. When I got back to the house, I packed a single suitcase. Before walking out the door, I sent Julian one final text message. "I will not be attending the gala today." "I wish you both nothing but the best."