A choice made
(Nicholas)
I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming impatiently on the polished wood of my desk as I surveyed the paperwork before me.
The crown felt heavier today. Isabella's persistent desire for a divorce had been like a dull ache in my chest, a bitter reality I had tried to ignore for far too long. She wanted out, and I had fought against her wish as best I could, but now it seemed inevitable.
A knock on the door broke through my thoughts, and the man I had seen with Isabella stepped inside when I waved him in.
"Your Highness," he began, clearing his throat nervously. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."
I gestured for him to sit, feeling irritated by his presence. "Get to the point. I know why you're here."