Tattooed in Moonlight

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The first sign of damage control came an hour later.

A tweet. Official Palace account. White background, stiff font, seal of the Republic stamped at the top like holy water.

"The First Family stands united. Reports of internal division are exaggerated. Miss Chaves remains a beloved member of the family. She has always been independent, and her recent statements reflect personal feelings, not political reality."

Translation: Our daughter went rogue, please ignore her.

I snorted into my coffee. "Oh, how sweet. Independence framed as delusion. Classic."

The replies were savage.

"She literally said she won't retract. Why are you gaslighting us?"
"Independent? She said you're corrupt. Don't twist it."
"Beloved member? Then why does she look like a hostage every time she's photographed with you?"

I winced at that one. Because ouch. But... not wrong.

Minutes later, another flood of posts. This time from allies, loyal politicians, senators with slick hair and practiced smiles.

"I urge Miss Chaves to reconsider. Family unity is vital at this time."
"Her statements are unfortunate. We must remember respect for parents is a Filipino value."

"She has been misled by outside influences. This is not her voice."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "Influenced AGAIN? What am I, a puppet with Travis's hand shoved up my spine?"

The internet had questions too.

"Outside influences = Travis, right? Just say it."

"Respect for parents ≠ enabling corruption."

"Funny how she speaks once and suddenly every senator grows a spine to scold her."

And then... the family photos started.

Old ones. Me at fifteen, awkward in braces. Me at eighteen, in a gown beside my mother dripping in diamonds. Me at twenty-one, smiling stiffly while my father raised my hand like I'd just won a pageant.

All captioned with variations of "Family unity. Don't believe the lies."

I stared at the screen, my throat tight.

They were rewriting me. My history. My image. Twisting old pictures into propaganda like I was still theirs to frame.

And maybe once, I'd have let them.

But not now.

Because every reply under those posts told a different story.

"She's not smiling in a single one of these."

"Look at her eyes. Prisoner."

"Unity isn't silence. Unity isn't complicity."

I leaned back, heart racing, a cocktail of fear and exhilaration swirling in my chest.

Because for once, people weren't buying the Palace's version.

They were buying mine.

Another buzz. A trending topic.

#KairaVsThePalace

I groaned, covering my face. "Great. Now it's a boxing match."

But when I peeked through my fingers, I saw the edits.

Me on one side of the screen, in stills from Your Majesty wielding a sword. My father on the other, behind his podium, hand raised like a shield.

The caption: "Truth vs. Power."