Brianna Panella Guzman Facebook ad: “After My Fake Death, the King Begged Me to Return”

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1415462660294279

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On the eve of the royal wedding—my investiture as Luna Queen—I announced my departure from Royal Castle. I took off the gown laid out for the ceremony, tied my long hair back the way I’d worn it before our mate bond was ever a possibility, and returned the royal seal Alpha King Nolan Pierce had given me. I left it, untouched, in his office. Nolan panicked. He demanded to know if someone had mistreated me, then immediately summoned the Royal Guard, ordering them to investigate anyone who had come near me. I just shook my head, telling him I only wanted to go for a walk before the wedding. He didn't believe me. He dropped to one knee, swearing an oath on the lives of every king in the Pierce royal line. “Claire, this kingdom—Asteria—it stands today because your parents and your brother died defending it for me. Once you are my Luna Queen, I will never take another mate, political or otherwise. I will never house another woman in this castle. I will spend my entire life with you and you alone. If I break this vow, may I lose my throne and die without a grave.” But everyone in Royal Castle knew it was a lie. Even the average members of the Eastport Pack whispered about the woman Nolan kept hidden in the south. Scarlett Reed. She'd been the most sought-after singer at an upscale club until a year ago, when Nolan bought out her contract and settled her into a private villa in Eastport. No one dared tell me. They were afraid I’d leave him. More than that, they were afraid that if I left, Nolan would lose control—that he would abandon the entire kingdom. So I chose to disappear on the one day he’d been looking forward to most: my investiture. I was done playing my part in his nationwide performance of devotion. … I wanted to make sure Nolan would never forget the feeling of losing me. So I spent three months planning my death. In the first month, I printed every letter, photo, and chat log Scarlett had sent me through her little messengers. Then I arranged every expensive gift Nolan had bought for her in the glass display cabinet in my sitting room. The gifts were all serialized by the royal workshop. Some even had cards, penned in Nolan’s own hand. The moment he saw them, he would see the betrayal he thought he’d hidden so well. In the second month, I sold off the jewelry, the cars, the collectibles—everything Nolan had given me over the years. Every last cent was anonymously transferred to a disaster relief fund for the northern packs, for those who had lost their homes in the blizzard. In the third month, I combed the Royal Castle’s medical database for every illness known to cause a rapid decline in werewolves, making sure to leave my search history behind. I boiled supplements and harmless herbs into a foul-smelling, black concoction and poured it into the flowerpots in my bedroom. I left empty pill bottles scattered across the bathroom counter. Every trace told the same story. That after discovering Nolan’s betrayal, I had......

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After My Fake Death, the King Begged Me to Return