Hiding My Twin Heirs from the Ruthless Prince novel Chapter 11

“Evangeline,” Sebastian’s deep, commanding voice cut through the festive music and laughter of the Harvest Moon Festival, stopping her in her tracks like a sword thrust. She froze, clutching Marcus and Adrian’s small hands tightly in her own. “We need to speak. Immediately.”

Evangeline straightened her shoulders and turned to face him, drawing upon every lesson in royal deportment she had ever received.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as her emerald eyes met his piercing blue gaze.

He looked exactly as she remembered—tall, imposing, and devastatingly handsome in his midnight blue doublet adorned with the royal coat of arms.

But his intense stare wasn’t focused on her face. It was locked upon the two young boys who instinctively sought shelter behind her silk skirts.

“I have nothing to discuss with you, Your Highness,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear that ran through her. “If you will excuse me.”

But Sebastian stepped directly into her path, his towering presence blocking any hope of escape. The authority radiating from him was unmistakable—this was a man accustomed to being obeyed without question.

Yet Evangeline’s pride had never allowed her to be intimidated by his royal bearing, and it would not fail her now. Still, the fire burning in his eyes made her chest constrict with old, familiar pain.

“Do not attempt to deceive me, Evangeline,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. His gaze flickered down to the boys before returning to her face, blazing with suspicion and something deeper. “Who are these children?”

Evangeline’s grip tightened protectively on Adrian’s small fingers, and she stepped forward like a lioness defending her cubs. “They are none of your concern,” she snapped, her tone cold enough to freeze summer wine. “Now stand aside.”

“The devil they aren’t my concern.” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, low enough that the children wouldn’t comprehend but sharp enough to pierce through her carefully constructed defenses. “Those boys… they bear my likeness exactly.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, her resolve wavering for just a heartbeat before she forced herself to stand firm. “Don’t be absurd, Sebastian,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and collected as possible. “The world does not revolve around your royal person. Not every dark-haired child with blue eyes belongs to you.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and a muscle in his jaw twitched with barely contained emotion. “Do not lie to me, Evangeline. I can see the truth written in their very faces. The way they hold themselves… the way they move… I know.”

She refused to meet his penetrating gaze, focusing instead on Marcus, who was tugging at her hand with obvious nervousness. “Come along, boys,” she said, attempting to guide them past Sebastian’s imposing figure. “Let us find Uncle Alexandro.”

But Sebastian’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist—not with force, but with enough pressure to halt her escape.

She glared at him, her entire body tense with barely suppressed fury. “Release me this instant, Sebastian,” she hissed.

“Not until you tell me the truth.” His voice softened slightly, but an edge of desperate pleading crept into his tone. “Evangeline… are they mine?”

Her heart felt as though it might shatter, but she refused to let him witness the tempest raging within her soul.

She wrenched her arm free with regal dignity and stood tall, her chin lifting in defiant challenge. “No,” she said with arctic coldness. “They are not.”

But Sebastian rose to his full height, towering over her once again. Evangeline felt her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack, but she clung to her composure with iron determination.

“I owe you no explanations,” she said. “You forfeited any right to know anything about me or my children five years ago when you cast us aside for your mistress.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he remained silent.

Evangeline seized the opportunity to guide the boys away, her hands trembling as she held onto them.

She did not look back, though she could feel Sebastian’s burning gaze following her every step.

He turned to leave but stopped when he noticed Adrian’s small velvet cloak lying forgotten on a marble bench.

Frowning, he picked it up, intending to return it to the boys’ nursemaid. But as he lifted the garment, a small piece of parchment fell from its pocket.

He bent to retrieve it, his breath catching in his throat as he unfolded the paper.

It was a child’s drawing in charcoal and colored chalk—simple but unmistakably clear. A royal family.

Two small figures in crowns, one slightly larger figure labeled “Mama,” and the tallest figure wearing a crown and bearing an unmistakable resemblance to himself, carefully labeled “Papa.”