Husband With Benefits-Chapter 888: Triumph

Victor leaned back in his large chair, his fingers drumming idly on the armrest as he stared at the screen. There stood Rafe, still and silent, his head bowed in defeat while the press shouted questions at him with relentless fervor.

What did he say this time? That he was ashamed? Victor sighed, his lips curving into a faint smirk. It was predictable—typical, even. When had Rafael ever taken responsibility for anything? All his life, his misdeeds had been neatly swept under the rug, conveniently pinned on Kael, while he pranced about as the pristine white prince.

If only the man had shown a shred of guts—just once—and stood up for his wife. That, Victor mused, might have earned him a flicker of genuine respect. But no, there he was, keeping up the same old act, shielding his carefully polished image by throwing his wife under the bus.

Tsk, tsk. No problem. Let him keep up the charade. It wouldn’t matter in the end. Victor’s smile deepened as he leaned forward slightly. The throne was as good as his. With a shake of his head, he turned off the screen and closed his eyes, waiting for the next part to unfold.

Unknown to everyone else, another figure stood frozen as he stared at the news. Gabe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he replayed the words he had just heard. Arabelle had been pregnant. Pregnant. How had he not known? The realization struck him like a thunderbolt, unraveling years of his pride at being the closest to Arabelle.

He thought back to the time when she was younger. There had been a time when she had been infinitely heart broken and tensed due to her first ever break up. She’d insisted that she wanted to leave for a vacation to get over that boy. And he had not insisted that she share her feelings with him.. So he’d let her, Cai and Dora plan a trip...

But now, the pieces didn’t fit. So that was it. Her sudden shift back then, her brittle smiles, her quiet moments of withdrawal—it hadn’t been about her breakup with that boyfriend at all. Gabe’s hands curled into fists, his protective instincts flaring like a wildfire. That boy. He’d been ready to blame her heartbreak on him and teach him a lesson, but now he realized there had been something far deeper, far more painful, at play. And someone needed to answer for it.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. That boy, was going to pay. Gabe was already forming the command in his mind, prepared to instruct his assistant to dig into the past and find that sorry excuse for a man. But before he could voice his intent, Rafe’s voice broke through the noise again, pulling him sharply back to the present.

"I am ashamed..."

Gabe stiffened, his breath catching as the words registered. His stomach churned with a white-hot anger. Ashamed of Arabelle? The thought ignited a firestorm within him. Rage rolled off him in waves, his mind racing ahead. Rafe had glanced sideways, just for a second, but it was enough. Gabe’s sharp eyes caught the movement. Arabelle was likely standing there, within earshot of the accusations, enduring every damning word.

His heart clenched, fury overtaking reason. How dare he! Was this the man who had promised him just yeaterday that he would always care for Arabelle.

He curbed the urge to march forward right away and punch the man but protecting her came first. Teaching Rafe and that old boyfriend their lessons could wait. Gabe’s fists unclenched slightly as his focus sharpened. His little girl needed him now more than ever, and no one—no one—was going to tarnish her name, not while he was breathing.

Before he could storm off, however, Rafe’s voice rang out again, louder this time, his tone cutting through the crowd’s clamor.

"Today, I am ashamed to call you all my people."

Gabe froze mid-step, his mind grinding to a halt.

The press quieted slightly, their incessant shouting fading into murmurs as Rafe finally lifted his head. His expression, though strained, carried an unusual intensity that had everyone turn silent.

"I am ashamed to call you all my people," Rafe repeated, his voice ringing with conviction now. "Petrovia has always prided itself on being a nation that welcomes people with open arms. A country that stands for dignity, respect, and compassion. And yet, today..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd like a piercing blade. "Today, I see none of that."

The silence grew louder, reporters glancing at one another, uncertain. "You invaded someone’s privacy," Rafe continued, "Not just mine, but that of someone I love deeply. You didn’t just report the facts—you pried, you speculated, you twisted the findings and presented them cruelly and unforgivably. And in doing so, you’ve shown utter disregard for the very values we claim to uphold."

"I have dedicated my life to serving this nation, believing in its people, its principles. And yet, today, you’ve attacked someone I care about—deeply care about—with a level of venom and malice that I never thought I’d witness from Petrovians. From my own people."

He cast a look around the room then and this time, everyone could feel the chill emanating from him. They were people who feared nothing and thought of nothing when questioning someone’s privacy. All under the guise of demandig answers for the public. But standing here, under his gaze, suddenly, everyone seemed to realize that they’d made a grave error.

And then, Rafe continued,"Arabelle’s past is hers to share, not mine and not anyone else’s. My feelings for her are not shaped by what others believe they know of her. I stand by her, as I have promised to. I won’t stay idle and let this continue."

"I will not tolerate any further rumors about the past of my wife, the future queen of Petrovia. If anyone has an issue with her, they have an issue with me. If there are those among you who cannot accept her, who believe this baseless vilification should continue, then I invite you—no, I challenge you—to take your grievances to the council."

His gaze burned through the crowd, daring anyone to speak up. No one did. The press members shifted uneasily, cameras clicking hesitantly, as if unsure whether to continue documenting the scene.

"Yes," Rafe continued, his tone sharp enough to cut steel, "if anyone feels I am unfit to rule because I refuse to let the woman I love be dragged through the mud, then request the council to strip me of my title. Ask them to make me step down. I will gladly walk away before I let our country’s throne be used as a platform for cruelty."freewebnøvel.com