The Williams mansion, once a symbol of power and prestige, now echoed with a silence so heavy it crushed the air. The grand chandelier still gleamed overhead, but its brilliance felt cruel, like a spotlight on a crumbling stage.

Aurora sat at the head of the long dining table. The polished mahogany surface reflected her pale face in fractured fragments. Once, this table had overflowed with crystal glasses and laughter, but tonight it was bare—save for her untouched phone buzzing with endless notifications.

Every headline was the same.

“The Williams Empire Collapses Under Scandal.”
“Heiress Aurora Williams—Princess Without a Throne.”
“From Diamond Darling to Fallen Heiress.”

Each word cut into her like shards of glass.

From the hallway, she heard the muffled voices of servants.
“They haven’t paid us in months.”
“Better leave now, before the creditors arrive.”

Their footsteps faded, and the house seemed emptier with each departing soul. Aurora’s fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles turned white. She wanted to scream, to demand loyalty—but what right did she have left to command anyone?

Her father entered the room at last. Once tall and commanding, Richard Williams looked small tonight, his shoulders hunched, his eyes hollow.

“Aurora,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze, “pack your things. We leave at dawn.”

The words struck her harder than any headline.
“Leave?” she whispered. “This is our home.”

But his silence was the only answer.

By morning, Aurora stood outside the grand gates with a single suitcase. Her long black dress clung to her like mourning clothes. The gates creaked open, and with it came a swarm of cameras and microphones. Reporters lunged forward like vultures.

“Miss Williams, is it true your family falsified company accounts?”
“Are the rumors about your father’s arrest confirmed?”
“Will your fiancé Damien Blake still marry you?”

The name made her heart lurch.

Then, as if summoned by the question, a sleek black car pulled up. Aurora’s chest tightened when Damien stepped out, flawless as ever in his tailored suit. For a brief, foolish moment, relief washed over her. He had come. Maybe, despite everything, love—or at least loyalty—remained.

“Aurora,” he said, his voice clipped, carefully measured for the cameras.

She forced a smile, clinging to her pride. “Damien. Thank you for coming.”

But his eyes were cold. He did not take her hand.
“My family cannot be associated with this scandal. The board has spoken. The engagement…” He paused, but only for effect. “…must be annulled.”

The world tilted beneath her feet. For a heartbeat, Aurora couldn’t breathe.
“You’re ending it?” Her voice cracked, betraying her. “After everything?”

Damien’s gaze flickered with something—regret, or perhaps annoyance—but it was gone too quickly.
“I have no choice. You understand, don’t you?”

Understand? How could she possibly understand the man she had been promised to abandoning her when she needed him most? Fury and heartbreak warred inside her chest. She wanted to beg him to stay, to fight for her, but her pride roared louder.

“I see,” she said coldly, her chin lifting. Her voice trembled, but her eyes did not falter. “Then go. I don’t need you.”

For a moment, Damien hesitated, as though waiting for her to break. When she didn’t, he turned away. The car door slammed shut, and the black sedan rolled out of sight.

The reporters erupted, their questions sharper, more vicious than ever. But Aurora walked past them in silence, her heels clicking against the pavement, each step a fragile echo of defiance.

That night, she found herself in a small, cramped apartment lent by a distant relative. The wallpaper peeled, the furniture wobbled, and the air smelled faintly of dust and fried food from the shop downstairs. It was a far cry from the marble floors and velvet curtains of her mansion.

She sat on the narrow bed, staring at her suitcase. Inside, sequined gowns and diamond jewelry looked absurd against the shabby room. She had never packed her own bag before. She had never been so… ordinary.

Aurora hugged her knees, nails digging into her skin. For twenty-two years, she had lived as though the world revolved around her, untouchable. Now, stripped of wealth, status, and love, she felt unbearably small.

A sob rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She would not cry. Not yet.

Instead, she forced herself to the window. Outside, the city lights glittered like distant stars, but tonight they no longer bowed beneath her gaze. She was not above them anymore. She was one of them.

Her reflection in the glass startled her. Gone was the glamorous heiress of magazines. The woman staring back at her was pale, tired, human.

“I will survive,” Aurora whispered, pressing her hand against the cold glass. Her voice shook, but her eyes hardened. “Even without them all… I will survive.”

But when she closed her eyes, a single tear slid down her cheek.

And in that lonely apartment, Aurora Williams—for the first time in her life—truly wondered if she could.