Page 188 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

Even if her sister was much better now, Livia still lived in After. Every time she talked to Adele during the school year, these questions hovered. Were the worries her sister occasionally voiced a regular-level anxiety or something more concerning? She sounded fine today, she decided. Then again, these kinds of things could always take a person by surprise, and Livia had decided long ago she would protect her sister from the harsher realities of both their lives.

But while Livia had kept the coldness of her relationship with the crown prince to herself, the transactional nature of the arrangement was no secret. After generations of living like the kings they were, the current members of the af Isborg royal family required some sort of divine intervention on their finances. The miracle had finally arrived in the form of a strategic alliance with Henri Jacard, a groundskeeper turned land baron—her father. Of course, the official reasons behind the empty royal coffers pointed everywhere except the king…the man who actually controlled the purse strings. Even Gustav, the so-called Bastard Spare, had been blamed. The tabloid articles seemed to indict him based on two facts: that long ago, he had gotten kicked out of the Alpine Institute for Boys, and because he was the son of the king’s mistress. Livia had found the accusation difficult to believe. Then again, a lot could change in eight years.

Whatever the causes, the royal family needed money, and her parents now had it. Her parents also had a desperate and driving need for acceptance into the upper echelons of high society, places that money could not buy. The royal family of Isrikesland could offer a title that would, presumably, bring that reward. How her father had managed to get an audience with the king and offer this arrangement without offending anyone was still a mystery to Livia, but Henri Jacard had always been extraordinarily resourceful. How else did one accomplish his meteoric rise from a service staff member at the Alpine Institute to a real estate mogul with vast land holdings throughout the Alps?

Of course, Livia was not only expected to comply with this exchange of money for title and influence; she was supposed to want the dubious honor enough to enter into a marriage with the notoriously cold Edvin af Isborg. And if she didn’t? With a little PR triage, Adele could easily be slotted into this same arrangement. A solution that Livia most definitely could not let happen.

We must all look out for your sister’s well-being, her mother had declared less than a year ago as she’d gazed out at the snow-capped peaks of the Alps from the stone patio that stretched across the rear of the main house of their estate. As if Livia had somehow forgotten the Incident. “Our family will have a royal connection. Our family’s name will be admired around the world, a legacy that will provide for you and your sister, no matter what happens.”

Livia suspected that her mother would not try to coax her into marriage with an overt threat. Instead, she would simply imply that Adele would be approached if Livia wasn’t open to the idea. For the good of the family, of course.

Livia couldn’t decide if amassing wealth no longer had the same thrill for her parents or if her mother had realized that there were limits to what wealth could buy. Acceptance and respect were two of those limits, as Livia had learned. Firstly, at the Alpine Institute for Girls, back when she was still the groundskeeper’s daughter, and then once again as her father’s wealth had grown.

Livia had replied, I don’t think a child bride has much appeal these days.

Her mother had waved a dismissive hand. If Adele must be the one to marry, it wouldn’t be before she turned eighteen. We would simply present the idea and begin arrangements. To make sure she is cared for. If necessary.

But her sister deserved to live without the pressures of her parents hovering over her—pressures that Adele was far more susceptible to. Pressure she might even give into, just to have one last year of peace after too many difficult years.

Livia was treated to another of her mother’s meaningful glances. Someday you will understand why this is important. But until then, we will all need to work together on this.

All meaning Livia. Either she could sacrifice herself on the altar of a strategic marriage or doom her sister to this fate.

Not necessary, she had said firmly. I will marry Edvin, and I will take care of Adele.

But Livia was not her parents’ chess piece, even if they were willing to make her the queen. Instead, she and Adele had hatched an alternate plan: Livia would agree to this marriage, then draw out this courtship and engagement period until Adele turned eighteen—when their parents no longer had full control over Adele’s life. At that time Livia would break off the engagement, and both Livia and Adele would then disappear to a remote Greek island together. The archipelago had felt so far away from the world of elite boarding schools when the two of them had first found the glossy book full of photos of Greece in the school’s library.

This plan actually might have worked if her dearly betrothed had not beaten her to the disappearance—spooking her parents. The moment the world became suspicious of the royal house’s flimsy explanation for why Crown Prince Edvin had mysteriously fallen off the face of the earth, her father had called Livia.

Where is he? he had demanded in the tone he took more often these days, as his power and influence grew.

I have no idea. They tell me nothing.

Her father, of all people, should’ve known this about the royal house. But clearly he had also tried—and failed—to get a straight answer out of the palace’s communications office, and his patience was running thin.

My royal tutor showed up this morning as usual, she had added, infusing a hint of bafflement into her voice. As if all of this was just a curious mystery. As if both Adele’s and her own future didn’t pivot on how their father decided to approach this problem.

Her answer had seemed to placate him a little. The moment he returns, I want to see a ring on your finger.

I’ll make sure to tell him, she had lied.

Livia had reminded herself that her parents firmly believed they were acting in her best interests, if not her personal preferences. They believed they were setting up their daughters for a lifetime without hardship. Livia suspected the results would be decidedly otherwise, but the most important thing was that neither of her parents ever suspected she would quibble with their ultimate vision: one of their daughters with a royal title to her name.

Royalty is royalty, her mother had proclaimed as she smoothed Livia’s long hair. As one of them, neither of you will ever be treated as less than anyone again.

Her mother was more the visionary in this plan, while her father handled the practicalities. Of course, they would have preferred a match with a more prominent royal house, such as Morocco. Though Livia was reasonably sure her parents were not so delusional as to have aspired to join the Windsors. Instead, her parents had settled on marrying into the royal family of a tiny archipelagic nation in the Baltic Sea.

Livia stared down at her phone as all of these details collided in her head with the newest turn of events: Edvin had returned. Which meant her father likely intended to kick their wedding plans into high speed.

“Here’s another picture,” said Adele, her voice breathless in Livia’s ear.

Livia peered down at the third photo, which captured Edvin as he walked toward the motorcade of black cars. He was dressed much like he always was, dark gray trousers and a crisp white shirt, his royal cufflinks sparkling when they caught the sunlight. So different from Gustav, she told herself. The thought was supposed to be reassuring.

“No announcement? No press release or anything?” her sister demanded. “He just suddenly walks off a plane?”

“If anyone can wave away the mystery of a sudden, untraceable disappearance, it’s the crown prince.”

“Do you think anyone will tell you what’s going on?”