Crown of Deception

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cesar's eyes locked onto the Emperor, a silent challenge simmering beneath his calm facade as he stood tall in the grand throne room. The air between them buzzed with tension, the weight of unspoken stakes pressing down like a suffocating fog. The Empress, standing regally beside her husband, watched Cesar with a calculating gaze, her presence a tangible force in the room.

"How long do you intend to hide yourself away in that manor?" the Emperor asked, his tone cool, though there was an edge of impatience lurking beneath. He was the embodiment of power, but even he could sense that this was not just another trivial matter.

Cesar's eyes flicked toward the Empress before settling back on the Emperor. "Until Lady De La Cruz wakes," he answered, his voice like cold steel, devoid of hesitation. Every word was deliberate, as if each syllable carried the full weight of his conviction. He couldn't afford to let them see any hint of weakness. His resolve was unshakable, his duty to Dalia, unwavering. Nothing they said or did would change that.

The Empress let out a low, mocking hum, her lips curling into a taunting smile. "And if she never wakes?" Her words were sharp, a knife meant to cut at his resolve. But Cesar's expression remained stony, unmoved by her provocation. He had survived worse than the Empress's thinly veiled insults.

Before Cesar could respond, a voice broke the tension. "Mother!" Emilio's frustration was evident, his brow furrowed as he stood torn between his loyalty to his family and his unspoken understanding of the gravity of the situation. His gaze shifted to Cesar, a flicker of conflict behind his eyes. Emilio knew as well as anyone that this was more than just a political game.

The Empress, ignoring her son, stepped forward slightly, her posture dripping with false concern. "Perhaps someone should step in to manage the De La Cruz Duchy for now," she suggested, her voice deceptively soft, each word laced with hidden intentions. "It's for the stability of the realm, of course."

Cesar's eyes narrowed, and he shifted his weight slightly, his body language alone a statement of defiance. "We do not have the authority to make that decision," he said, his tone sharp and unyielding. He wasn't going to allow her to twist this situation to her advantage. The Duchy's affairs were not hers to claim, and he would see to it that she never got the chance.

The Empress raised an eyebrow, her gaze never leaving his. "Alicia could step in as a substitute," she suggested, a sly smile playing on her lips. "After all, she is of De La Cruz blood." Her words hung in the air like a trap, carefully set.

Cesar's jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. "Alicia is not part of the De La Cruz family," he countered, his voice low but filled with venom. "She was never formally adopted by the Duke. She's merely a distant relative, tolerated at best." He gave her a small, taunting smile, the kind that told her he saw right through her. "She has no claim to the Duchy."

For the briefest moment, the Empress's smile faltered, her perfectly crafted facade cracking just enough for Cesar to see the flicker of frustration in her eyes. But she quickly recovered, her composure sliding back into place like a well-worn mask.

The Emperor, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. "And under what authority will you oversee Lady De La Cruz's affairs?" he asked, his sharp gaze locking onto Cesar.

Cesar didn't flinch. He had anticipated this question, prepared for it. "Lady De La Cruz is my fiancée," he declared, his voice steady, the lie slipping from his lips without hesitation. It was a necessary deception, one that would protect Dalia's interests and keep the Empress at bay. "We will be married once she awakens."

The room seemed to freeze. The Empress's eyes blazed with unrestrained fury, her hands trembling slightly at her sides as the mask she wore began to crumble under the force of her emotions. "How dare you," she spat, venom dripping from her words. In an instant, she moved, faster than Cesar had anticipated.

Her hand sliced through the air, and the sharp slap that followed echoed through the chamber like a gunshot. The impact of her palm against his cheek sent a jarring wave of pain across his face, but Cesar stood his ground, his expression hardening even more.

The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone in the room was frozen in shock. Emilio's face drained of color, his mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief. The Emperor's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening with a mixture of fury and disappointment.

"How dare you strike the Crown Prince," the Emperor's voice thundered, each word shaking the walls of the throne room. His imposing figure seemed to grow even larger as he took a menacing step toward the Empress, his gaze burning with rage.

The Empress faltered, the gravity of her mistake dawning on her as she stared at the Emperor. Her mouth opened to respond, but no words came. Her eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet her husband's intense gaze.

"You've overstepped, Isabella," the Emperor continued, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous. "No one, not even you, has the right to lay a hand on the Crown Prince."

Cesar remained silent, his gaze fixed on the Empress, who was visibly shaking now. She had made her move, and it had backfired spectacularly. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the first crack in her seemingly invincible armor.

The Emperor turned to Cesar, his expression softening slightly. "Are you alright?"

Cesar inclined his head, the sting of the slap still burning on his cheek. "I am fine, Your Majesty."

The Emperor gave a curt nod before turning back to the Empress. "Apologize," he demanded, his voice brooking no argument.

The Empress's face flushed with humiliation, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I... apologize, Crown Prince," she ground out, her words brittle with resentment.

Satisfied, the Emperor nodded. "See that it doesn't happen again." Without another word, he turned and swept out of the room, his cape billowing behind him like a dark storm cloud.

Cesar watched him go, then turned back to the Empress, his voice cold and deliberate. "I warned you," he said quietly, each word measured, "if anything happens to her, I will make this Empire crumble."

The Empress's eyes flickered with a hint of fear, her composure cracking once more. She knew that Cesar wasn't bluffing. His threat hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

Without waiting for a response, Cesar turned on his heel and strode toward the grand doors of the throne room. The guards flanking the entrance stood at attention, but none dared move. As the heavy doors swung open, a gust of wind rushed in from the corridor beyond, extinguishing several of the torches and casting the room into an eerie half-light.

Cesar paused at the threshold, casting one final, burning glance back at the throne. "Remember this moment," he said softly, his voice carrying like a whisper of doom. "It marks the beginning of the end for you."

With that, he stepped out, the heavy doors closing behind him with a resounding thud that echoed through the empty halls like a final, ominous toll.