My Accidental Husband is a Billionaire

Sean froze at those words, instinctively glancing at Amy.

For some reason, a strange thought crept into his mind.

He asked directly, "That woman—have you seen what she looks like?"

"Of course."

Monbatten raised a curious brow. "How could I not know what she looks like?"

Sean blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh, never mind, then."

If he knew what she looked like, then it couldn't be Amy's mom.

He had successfully dodged the truth.

After chatting with Monbatten for a bit longer, Sean excused himself to mingle with other guests. The moment he walked away, the guard standing behind Monbatten couldn't hold back. "Your Majesty, wasn't that woman back then wearing a—"

Monbatten cut him off with a sharp look. "Even so, there were those eyes. If I saw them again, I'd recognize them instantly. They were... warm yet resolute."

The guard quickly fell silent, never daring to question his king.

Monbatten's jaw tightened as his gaze drifted off.

Back then, a much younger Monbatten had visited Crera for the first time. He was already engaged, his bride chosen, but at only twenty-five, he had no interest in marriage or children, so he'd delayed the wedding.

While in Crera, he had ventured out with just one guard. A night out at a bar took an unexpected turn.

of him. His guard had gone off to find an antidote,

room smelled of something faint and floral—rosewater,

stepped toward him. Her voice was soft

held an irresistible warmth

out, "Are

"I am."

her movements full of sultry confidence as she led him

twenty-five! I

conviction, her eyes filled

she pushed him onto the

passion, he had tried to remove her mask. She stopped him with a soft laugh. "Monbatten, if you can recognize me by my eyes, then we're meant to be. If

stung his pride, and so, he never

in anyone else. That warmth, so embracing yet unaware of its own allure. That determination, as if she had burned every bridge

women in

duties had kept him tied down. This year, the pressure to name an heir had become

to him: "You'll need a

been right. He

to his guard. "Do you

replied thoughtfully, "Witches? Maybe you

out a dry laugh. "...Are there fairies

to say.

Monbatten chuckled despite himself.

medical treatment. Unofficially, it was

memory, as vivid as her voice that night. He was certain—if she stood before him again,