The summons arrived in a red-lacquered envelope—sealed not with wax, but with the golden insignia of the **Rajya Sabha Crown Empress** herself.
It bore no time. No explanation.
Just one line.
**"Come alone."**
---
The Imperial Palace was quieter than usual when Anaya stepped through its gilt gates. No parades. No cameras. Just long marbled corridors and ancient portraits staring down at her like silent judges.
She wore black silk—an unusual color for a palace visit—and no jewelry save the emerald wedding ring Aryan had slid on her finger with solemn restraint.
The guards did not speak. The courtiers did not meet her eyes.
She was led through the Empress's private wing. Past centuries-old fountains and mosaics of goddesses and queens. Until finally—
The door opened.
And she stepped into the Empress's private sanctum.
---
The Empress was alone.
No crown. No guards. Just her.
Wrapped in ivory silk, seated beside a marble lotus fountain, her posture graceful but heavy with age, wisdom, and *something else* Anaya couldn't place.
"Your Majesty," Anaya said, bowing low.
The Empress gestured for her to rise. "Sit, child. We don't have time for formality today."
Anaya obeyed.
And waited.
The silence between them stretched, until finally, the Empress spoke.
"I knew your mother well. Before she became the Prime Minister's wife."
Anaya blinked.
"I'm not speaking of Amrita," the Empress continued. "I mean your *birth mother*."
The world seemed to tilt.
"What?"
The Empress studied her with eyes lined by history. "There are things you were not told. Things hidden—not to punish you, but to protect you."
Anaya's voice was low. Controlled. "Tell me."
And so she did.
---
She learned her real mother had been born into a noble family—one close to the imperial bloodline—but disgraced by a forbidden affair with a royal bodyguard. A child had been born. Out of wedlock. Hidden.
That child… was Anaya.
The Empress had known.
Had even helped orchestrate her silent placement into a politically safe household—the Mehra family—whose own desire for a legacy made it convenient to raise a daughter they never conceived.
"It was the only way to keep you alive," the Empress said.
Anaya sat still.
Her pulse roared in her ears, but her face betrayed nothing.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why tell me this?"
The Empress leaned closer. "Because your blood is not just political. It is imperial."
A pause. Then—
"And because this empire needs a queen with fire. Not just grace."
---
When Anaya left the palace, her heels clicked sharper than ever against the marble. Her eyes were dry. Her spine straight.
But inside her…
Everything had shifted.
She wasn't just Aryan's wife.
She wasn't just the villainess.
She was **born to rule**.
And this time?
She would take the crown on her terms.