Chapter 1332:
Their floor in the Plieca building included a spacious but dated living room, which hadn’t been renovated in
years, with outdated amenities.
Though the place was equipped with two living rooms—one large for guests, and one smaller for private
moments—and staffed by numerous servants, Rosie couldn't bring herself to like it. The palace didn't feel like
home. The servants’ constant presence seemed less like service and more like surveillance, scrutinizing her
every action.
To top it off, Maxley’s new love, Bonita, seemed to make everything worse. The unmistakable sounds of intimacy
between Maxley and Bonita, who was unabashedly vocal, grated on Rosie's nerves.
“How shameless!”
That morning, upon learning of Rosie's return, Maxley visited her room. Lounging on the sofa across from her, he
said, “Bonita is kind and holds you in high regard.”
Bonita stood nearby, her beauty soft and graceful. She was nearly the sage as Rosie, radiating a delicate
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Rosie’s primary concern, however, was Bonita’s father, a prominent Plieca magnate whose political influence was
undeniable.
It was clear that Bonita’s presence gave Maxley a significant advantage.
Rosie shot Bonita a look of disdain.
“You married her without my approval, Maxley. That was inappropriate,” Rosie said sharply, frustration etched
across her face.
Maxley lounged on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his arm casually draped over the armrest, exuding
confidence. He was a far cry from the overlooked prince he had been when Rosie had first met him.
Back then, he had few allies.
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Now, thanks to Rosie's tireless efforts, he commanded a strong following, and his demeanor toward her had
shifted noticeably.
“Rosie, Bonita’s father supportsgreatly. | married her to solidify my status,” Maxley replied coolly.
Bonita remained unperturbed by her role as a strategic asset; her family’s pride swelled by her royal marriage.
She said, “My father is fully committed to Maxley’s pursuit of the throne. Rosie, | hold you in the highest regard.”
Rosie’s gaze hardened, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
She found Bonita’s demeanor repulsive.
Bonita pressed on, undeterred. “We should unite to strengthen Maxley’s campaign for the crown. Today, we're
heading to Parliament to sway the members and secure their votes for the future. Rosie, let's go together.”
“I'm not going!” Rosie snapped, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Even if she considered going, she wouldn't do so with another woman by her side.
She had no intention of sharing her partner's affections with anyone else. All she wanted now was to escape this
suffocating situation.
For several days in a row, Rosie scrolled through Plieca’s forums, where photos of Maxley and Bonita attending
events together flooded her screen. At these gatherings, Maxley spoke with fiery conviction, winning the public's
favor. Meanwhile, two other contenders for the throne—Baxter Gibran and Bradley Gibran—also stepped boldly
into the spotlight, rallying their own supporters and turning the battle for succession into a storm.
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