The sovereign of the house looked down at the woman who had nearly joined his family.

“This palace is subject to the treaty of this nation, Miss Carter,” the King said.

“And I have personally waived any claim of diplomatic immunity for anyone involved in this deception.”

He looked at the officers.

“Take her.”

One of the officers stepped forward, bending down to help Rachel to her feet.

She did not stand voluntarily; she had to be hoisted up, her legs shaking under the weight of her elaborate gown.

The officer pulled her wrists behind her back.

The metallic click of the handcuffs locking was the loudest sound in the room.

“Emily, please,” Rachel sobbed, turning her head toward me as they led her toward the door.

“Tell them. We are sisters. We can fix this.”

“The time for fixing things ended when you signed the certificate for a mother who was still breathing,” I said.

My voice did not shake, but inside, a cold weight settled in my stomach.

She was my sister, but the woman standing in front of me was a stranger who had traded her family’s soul for a title.