Chapter 45 The Art of Elegant Sabotage #2
“Which is precisely why you rely on us,” Lavinia added.
Sebastian inclined his head. “And I trust I can continue to do so?”
Allegra leaned in, her expression all honeyed charm and razor-sharp intent. “That depends, dear. Will it be worth our while?”
Sebastian’s eyes glinted. “Always.”
Satisfied, they turned the conversation to more interesting topics—the shifting tides of power, the Queen’s diminishing control, and the opportunities ahead.
It was only then, once the air around them crackled with anticipation, that Sebastian delivered his real move.
“Listen,” he said, dropping his voice just enough to command attention. “What would you say to spreading a particular kind of narrative? One that positions Alexander not as rebellious, but as… someone claiming his rightful place?”
Lavinia and Allegra exchanged glances.
“We’re listening,” Lavinia said carefully.
Sebastian smiled, slow and measured. “The Queen has played her game unchallenged for too long.” He swirled his drink. “But times are changing. What would happen if everyone started seeing her control not as strength, but as… fear?”
Allegra’s breath hitched slightly. She understood.
“You’re suggesting we help turn sentiment against the Queen?”
Sebastian exhaled, casual as ever. “Not against,” he corrected smoothly.
“Simply… toward a more balanced perspective. After all, Alexander will be king someday. It would be prudent to ensure he remembers who supported his independence when the time comes. By the time Eleanor realizes what’s happening, half her court will have already shifted allegiance. ”
Lavinia’s smile deepened. “I’m hosting a charity dinner this week. Half of Parliament will be there.”
“And I’m dining with Lord and Lady Kensington tomorrow,” Allegra added. “They have considerable influence among the conservatives.”
Sebastian’s expression sharpened. “Perfect. Remember—it’s not about criticism. It’s about… concern. For stability. For the future.”
As they melted into the crowd, selecting their next targets, Sebastian adjusted his mental timeline.
Things were moving faster than expected.
Later that night, Sebastian sank into the driver’s seat of his father’s Porsche, fingers drumming against the leather steering wheel as the estate lights faded in his rearview mirror. The low growl of the engine purred beneath him as he pulled onto the main road.
Tonight had been a masterpiece of subtle maneuvering—no direct threats or overt rebellion, just well-placed words, carefully cultivated allies, and precise pressure applied exactly where needed.
The whispers he’d planted would spread through the elite circles by morning, each one carrying a seed of doubt about Eleanor’s reign.
For years, Eleanor had dismissed him as reckless and indulgent, too unfocused to pose any real threat. That had been her first mistake in a game she didn’t even realize they were playing.
Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the wheel as moonlight spilled across the winding country road ahead. A slow, satisfied smile curled at the edges of his mouth while the cool night air rushed through the open window. He wasn’t just playing the game anymore—he was winning it.
And soon, when the whispers grew too loud to ignore, Eleanor would realize just how badly she had miscalculated.
As he accelerated, feeling the engine’s response beneath him, Sebastian reached for his phone and dialed Alexander.
* * *
Harper had always been good at her job, but this was more than just another story. This was about power, about control, about the slow, methodical dismantling of an institution that had operated unchecked for centuries. And right now, the Queen’s grip on that institution was slipping.
The problem with ruling for so long was that secrets had a way of piling up. The longer they were buried, the more dangerous they became when unearthed. And Harper? She had a talent for unearthing things.
She wasn’t looking for a scandal about illegitimacy or affairs—that wasn’t the goal. This wasn’t about Sebastian. That part of the truth was locked away, held only by the late King himself. Instead, she needed something that would pressure the Queen without putting her friend in the crosshairs.
She followed the money.
A series of payments, stretching back for years. Substantial sums of money, funneled directly from the royal treasury to a single noble house. No official reason attached. No public acknowledgment. Just a steady stream of financial favor, signed off by one person alone:
Queen Eleanor.
That was the key. Not the late King—her. If she framed this correctly, the story wouldn’t be about the past; it would be about monarchy overreach, political favoritism, and corruption under the Queen’s rule.
Harper stared at the records, her fingers drumming against the desk. This was it—the proof of a direct link between the crown and one of the most powerful aristocratic families in the country.
Of course, Harper knew better than to drop everything at once. The game was won through timing, precision, and patience. Information, when placed correctly, was a weapon more devastating than any public scandal.
She picked up her phone. She made the necessary calls, and the next morning, the first cracks in the Queen’s carefully crafted control appeared.
A blind item surfaced in the press, buried among the usual daily gossip:
“A certain high-ranking noble family has enjoyed the monarchy’s protection for decades—but at what cost?
Sources suggest that long-standing financial arrangements between the crown and an aristocratic house may hint at deeper, more personal entanglements.
What transactions has the Queen fought to keep out of public record—and why is she so determined to keep them buried? ”
The speculation took less than a day to spread.
Political analysts and royal watchers began digging through old records.
Journalists started asking the right questions.
Parliament members—particularly those with ambitions of their own—began raising concerns about the monarchy’s financial dealings.
And social media, ever relentless, took it even further.
The conversation was no longer about Alexander’s personal life. It was about the monarchy itself.
And the best part? His name was nowhere near it. The Queen, for the first time in decades, was on the defensive, and Harper had just fired the first shot.