Part 1

“I’ll marry any one of your daughters.”

Alpha King William Ashford said it as if he were discussing an acquisition.

Across the polished black table, Victor Aldrich went completely still.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Aldrich Estate, rain streaked the glass and blurred the lights of Thornwood City below. Inside, everything gleamed—Italian marble, recessed lighting, expensive art, a fireplace controlled by a tablet mounted discreetly beside the door.

Nothing about the room looked ancient.

Nothing about the man sitting at the head of the table looked like a king.

William wore a charcoal suit, no tie, the first button of his white shirt undone after a fourteen-hour day. His phone rested facedown beside a thin leather folder containing territorial maps, financial projections, and the proposed terms of an alliance between House Ashford and House Aldrich.

Yet everyone in the room knew exactly what he was.

Alpha King.

The title did not belong to the human world.

Humans saw William Ashford as the private chairman of Ashford Holdings, a thirty-seven-year-old billionaire whose family controlled logistics companies, medical networks, security firms, and vast stretches of protected land across the northern states.

The Lycans knew better.

William ruled the twelve major packs of the Northern Coalition.

And tonight, he needed a wife.

Not love.

Not a mate.

A political marriage.

Victor Aldrich slowly smiled.

“Any of them?”

William leaned back.

“That’s what I said.”

Victor’s smile widened.

Within minutes, his three eldest daughters had been summoned to the formal reception room.

Rosalyn arrived first in an elegant cream dress. Margaret followed in dark green silk, perfectly styled and perfectly aware of how beautiful she was. Eleanor came last, quieter but equally polished.

William barely reacted.

Victor began presenting them as if pitching assets to an investor.

“Rosalyn runs our charitable foundation. Margaret handles public relations and has represented the family at two Coalition summits. Eleanor has an MBA and oversees—”

William’s gaze shifted past him.

There was someone else near the windows.

A young woman stood half hidden behind a tall indoor olive tree, carrying a tray with untouched coffee cups.

Simple gray cardigan.

Dark jeans.

Brown hair loosely tied at the nape of her neck.

No designer dress.

No jewelry except a thin silver chain.

And unlike every other woman in the room, she was doing everything possible not to attract his attention.

William looked at Victor.

“Who is she?”

Victor glanced around.

For one strange second, he seemed genuinely confused.

Then he saw her.

“Oh.”

His expression changed.

“That’s Clare.”

The young woman stiffened.

“My youngest.”

Victor gave a dismissive laugh.

“She keeps to herself. She’s always been rather… difficult socially.”

Clare lowered her eyes.

“She has a speech problem,” Victor added. “So public functions aren’t really her strength.”

William’s attention returned to him.

Something in the room changed.

Victor noticed.

“She’s harmless,” he said quickly. “But Margaret would obviously be the strongest match politically.”

“I didn’t ask which daughter you considered useful.”

The smile vanished from Victor’s face.

William looked toward Clare.

“Come here.”

Her fingers tightened around the tray.

Margaret gave her a small, warning glance.

Clare moved anyway.

She set the tray on a side table and crossed the room.

William had seen fear thousands of times.

In boardrooms.

At Coalition hearings.

During territorial disputes.

In the eyes of challengers who realized too late that the rumors about the Alpha King were understated.

Clare’s fear was different.

She wasn’t afraid that William would hurt her.

She was afraid she would embarrass herself.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She swallowed.

“C-Clare.”

Victor exhaled impatiently.

William heard it.

Clare heard it too.

Her shoulders immediately folded inward.

“Clare Aldrich,” she tried again. “Your—”

Her voice caught.

Victor rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“For God’s sake, Clare.”

Her face burned.

William turned his head.

“Enough.”

One word.

Victor stopped.

Clare looked up.

Green eyes met gray-blue.

And William saw something beneath the embarrassment.

Anger.

Small.

Buried.

But alive.

Interesting.

He turned back to her.

“Do you want to marry me?”

Every person in the room froze.

Victor stared at him.

“Your Majesty, surely—”

William didn’t look away from Clare.

“I asked her.”

Clare’s lips parted.

Her eyes moved briefly toward her father.

Then toward her sisters.

Then back to William.

She was trembling.

But she lifted her chin.

“N-no.”

Margaret’s mouth opened.

Victor went white.

William stared at Clare.

Then, unexpectedly, he almost smiled.

“Good.”

Clare blinked.

William stood, buttoned his jacket, and picked up his phone.

Victor hurried after him.

“William, I apologize. She doesn’t understand the importance of—”

“I think she understands it better than anyone else in this house.”

He stopped at the doorway.

“I’ll give you my decision after I return from the eastern territory.”

His security detail moved with him toward the front entrance.

But before William left, he looked back.

Three daughters were watching him.

Only Clare was looking at the floor.

And for reasons he could not explain, she was the only one he saw.

Three days later, Clare was kneeling in the greenhouse when the door opened.

She assumed it was Bess.

“Could you leave the potting mix by the—”

She looked up.

William Ashford stood inside the doorway.

Not in a suit this time.

Black trousers. Dark sweater. Heavy coat damp from the rain.

He looked exhausted.

Two black SUVs were visible through the greenhouse glass beyond him.

Clare scrambled to her feet.

“Y-Your Majesty.”

“William.”

She stared at him.

“When we’re alone.”

Her heart gave one hard beat.

William looked around the greenhouse.

Rosemary. Thyme. Sage. Lavender. Medicinal herbs. Several trays of seedlings beneath grow lights.

“My mother had a greenhouse.”

Clare’s surprise made her forget to be nervous.

“She did?”

He nodded.

“She loved lavender.”

Something softened inside Clare.

“My mother planted these.”

William looked at her.

“She died when I was twelve.”

His expression changed.

“My mother died when I was fifteen.”

Silence settled between them.

For once, Clare didn’t feel pressured to fill it.

She clipped a small stem of lavender.

Then held it toward him.

William looked at it.

“For me?”

Clare nodded.

“It can h-help with sleep.”

A pause.

“I don’t do much of that.”

“I noticed.”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Her eyes widened.

William stared at her.

Then a quiet laugh left him.

It was so unexpected that Clare stared harder.

“You’re observant.”

She looked away.

William accepted the lavender.

Instead of dropping it onto the workbench, he slipped it carefully into the inside pocket of his coat.

Clare watched him.

No one kept things she gave them.

Not usually.

“You said no to me,” William said.

Her stomach tightened.

“I—I didn’t mean to humiliate you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I don’t want to be… chosen.”

He waited.

Clare forced herself to continue.

“Like something from a catalog.”

William’s expression became unreadable.

“That makes two of us.”

She looked up.

“I don’t want a woman who wants the crown more than she wants the man wearing it.”

For the first time, Clare wondered whether being Alpha King might be another kind of cage.

William moved toward the door.

Then stopped.

“I haven’t made my decision.”

Clare said nothing.

“But I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.”

Her breath caught.

He opened the greenhouse door.

“I thought you deserved to know.”

Then he was gone.

The following morning, Clare found Thomas near the Ashford motorcade.

William’s twenty-two-year-old aide was sitting against the rear tire of an SUV, trying unsuccessfully to hide blood soaking through his sleeve.

“What happened?”

Thomas startled.

“Nothing.”

Clare pointed at the blood.

“That isn’t nothing.”

He had slipped while helping the security team move equipment and badly scraped his arm. His ankle was swelling too.

Clare retrieved the first-aid kit from the vehicle.

Thomas protested until she gave him a look.

Then he surrendered.

She cleaned the wound, applied antiseptic, wrapped his arm, and checked his ankle.

“You need ice. And you shouldn’t put weight on this until the doctor checks it.”

Thomas watched her.

“You’re very different from your sisters.”

Clare’s hands stopped.

“That’s usually not a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.”

She resumed wrapping his ankle.

Thomas hesitated.

“The King likes you.”

Clare nearly dropped the bandage.

“He barely knows me.”

“I’ve worked for William for six years.”

Thomas lowered his voice.

“I’ve watched senators flatter him. CEOs lie to him. Alpha daughters practically audition in front of him.”

A grin appeared.

“I’ve never watched him keep a dead piece of lavender in his coat pocket.”

Clare’s cheeks burned.

Neither of them noticed William standing on the balcony above the garage.

But William saw everything.

Clare kneeling on cold concrete to help someone who could offer her nothing.

Her hands steady even when her voice wasn’t.

Her concern instinctive.

Unperformed.

He touched the lavender inside his coat.

And for the first time in ten years, the political marriage he had come to negotiate felt like the stupidest idea he’d ever had.

The Ashford Autumn Foundation Gala took place the following weekend.

Humans believed it was a charity event.

The Lycans knew it served another purpose.

Pack families came from across the territory. Alliances were renewed. Disputes were quietly discussed. Young heirs were introduced.

Clare planned to remain invisible.

She almost succeeded.

Then William found her beside the dessert table.

“You’re hiding.”

“N-no.”

“You’re standing behind a six-foot floral arrangement.”

Clare glanced at the enormous arrangement.

William raised one eyebrow.

She sighed.

“Fine.”

Music drifted from the temporary stage outside.

Couples were dancing beneath strings of warm lights.

William extended his hand.

Clare stared at it.

“No.”

“You’ve already said that to me once.”

“I can’t dance.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

People were beginning to watch.

Clare’s pulse accelerated.

William noticed.

His voice dropped.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

His hand remained open.

“Just take my hand. I’ll lead.”

Clare looked at him.

Then placed her hand in his.

William guided her onto the dance floor.

She stumbled almost immediately.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Again.

Another mistake.

William steadied her.

“Stop looking at your feet.”

“Where should I look?”

“At me.”

Terrible advice.

Looking at William made everything worse.

But she did it.

And slowly, the crowd disappeared.

Afterward, Clare escaped toward the edge of the estate grounds and found Cinder, an old three-legged dog everyone seemed to ignore.

Two teenagers were teasing him with food.

“Stop.”

Her voice cracked.

They laughed.

Clare stepped between them and the dog.

“I said stop.”

Something in her expression made them leave.

She crouched and offered Cinder a piece of chicken from her plate.

The dog approached cautiously.

Then leaned his entire battered body against her knee.

“He likes you.”

William stood behind her.

Clare smiled down at the animal.

“He just needed someone to be kind to him.”

William went still.

After a moment, he crouched beside her.

“Cinder belonged to someone I loved.”

Clare looked at him.

William offered the dog another piece of chicken.

Cinder accepted it.

William touched his head once.

Quickly.

Almost secretly.

Clare understood then.

The ruthless Alpha King had weaknesses.

He simply hid them better than she did.

The next night William drove Clare beyond the northern edge of the estate.

No motorcade.

No security team visible.

Just William, Clare, and a black Range Rover climbing toward an isolated overlook above Thornwood.

They sat on the hood beneath a sky crowded with stars.

“My father brought me here when I was young,” William said.

Clare listened.

“He said a king should occasionally look at something he couldn’t control.”

She smiled.

“Smart man.”

“He was.”

The past tense told her everything.

After a while William asked, “Why did you really say no?”

Clare’s hands tightened inside her coat pockets.

She could have hidden.

Instead, she spoke.

“Because I’m tired of being someone’s option.”

The words came slowly.

“I’ve spent my whole life being the daughter everyone forgets. My father doesn’t ask what I want. My sisters speak over me because it’s easier than waiting.”

She swallowed.

“And when you said you’d marry any one of us…”

Her voice caught.

William waited.

He didn’t finish the sentence for her.

Didn’t rescue her.

He simply gave her time.

“I thought if I didn’t say no, I would disappear completely.”

William looked at her for a long time.

“You aren’t invisible to me.”

Tears burned behind her eyes.

“I stutter.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand in front of hundreds of people and give speeches like Margaret.”

“Then don’t.”

She stared at him.

“William, you’re the Alpha King.”

“Yes.”

“Your wife would have responsibilities.”

“Yes.”

“I might embarrass you.”

“No.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can.”

His voice was calm.

“Because I’m not embarrassed by you.”

Clare looked away before he could see the tears.

William didn’t touch her.

That mattered.

He could have.

Instead he sat beside her beneath the stars and allowed her to decide how close she wanted to be.

Eventually Clare placed her hand between them.

William looked down.

Then covered it with his.

“I see you, Clare.”

She closed her eyes.

For once, being seen didn’t feel dangerous.

Part 2

The danger returned the next morning.

Victor Aldrich summoned Clare to his private office.

A tablet displaying Coalition news sat on his desk.

“You’ve attracted his attention.”

Clare said nothing.

Victor stood.

“This family has spent decades rebuilding its influence. An alliance with Ashford would secure our position for a generation.”

“I don’t want to be an alliance.”

“You don’t get to decide everything you want.”

Something inside Clare went cold.

Victor continued.

“If William chooses you, you will accept.”

Clare looked at her father.

Months ago, she would have lowered her eyes.

Today she didn’t.

“If William asks me to marry him, I’ll answer William.”

Victor’s face hardened.

“Not you.”

She walked out before fear could steal the victory.

William changed after that.

He became distant.

Messages went unanswered.

Meetings replaced greenhouse visits.

When Clare saw him at Ashford headquarters, he greeted her politely.

Nothing more.

She told herself she’d imagined everything.

Then Bess found her sorting herbs in the greenhouse.

“He’s frightened.”

Clare looked up.

“William Ashford?”

“Men with power are still men.”

Bess smiled sadly.

“Sometimes more frightened than the rest of us because everyone taught them fear was something they weren’t allowed to admit.”

The following morning, William finally sent a message.

East observatory. 8:00. Please come.

Clare went.

William stood beside the enormous windows overlooking snow-covered mountains.

No suit jacket.

No advisers.

No Alpha King.

Just William.

“There was someone before you,” he said.

Her stomach tightened.

“Her name was Anna.”

Ten years earlier, before William became king, he’d loved her.

Completely.

She betrayed him.

Used his access to Ashford intelligence to help his father’s political enemies.

The resulting attack nearly killed William and left the thin scar above his eyebrow.

Afterward, he’d decided love was simply another vulnerability waiting to be exploited.

Marriage could be controlled.

Treaties could be negotiated.

Feelings could not.

“That was why I came to your father,” William said. “I wanted a wife I didn’t love.”

Clare’s heart hurt at the simplicity of it.

“And then?”

“You told me no.”

Despite everything, she almost smiled.

William did too.

Then his expression became serious.

“If you choose me, you need to understand what you’re choosing.”

He stepped closer.

“I have spent ten years building walls. Sometimes I will retreat behind them before I realize I’m doing it.”

Clare understood the previous week now.

“I can’t promise I’ll always know how to do this correctly.”

“What can you promise?”

His answer came immediately.

“That I’ll keep trying.”

A phone began vibrating on the table.

William looked at the screen.

His expression changed.

He answered.

Within thirty seconds, the man Clare had been speaking to disappeared.

The King returned.

“When?”

Silence.

“How many?”

Another silence.

“Evacuate the civilian zones. Lock down Routes Six and Nine. I’m coming.”

He ended the call.

“What happened?”

William looked at Clare.

“Rogues hit three settlements along the northern territory.”

Her blood chilled.

“Pack rogues?”

“Mostly deserters and exiles. Armed.”

He grabbed his jacket.

“They’ve already burned two residential compounds.”

“William—”

“I have to go.”

For the first time, Clare saw fear in him.

Not for himself.

For the people waiting for him to protect them.

He took both her hands.

“I was going to give you more time.”

“For what?”

“When I come back, I’m going to ask you something.”

Her heart stopped.

“What?”

A tired smile touched his face.

“You’ll know.”

Then he left.

The northern conflict lasted eleven days.

William coordinated the response from the border command center with Ashford security and local pack forces.

Margaret convinced Victor to send her as Aldrich’s official liaison.

Clare stayed behind.

And waited.

On the eleventh night, dozens of black vehicles rolled through the gates of Ashford Estate.

Clare ran downstairs.

Security officers entered first.

Some injured.

Some exhausted.

Thomas followed with his arm in a sling.

Then William walked through the doors.

His coat was torn.

A bandage showed beneath his collar.

He looked exhausted enough to collapse.

Margaret rushed toward him.

William walked straight past her.

His eyes searched the room.

“Where’s Clare?”

She stepped from behind a column.

“Here.”

William stopped.

Everything in his face changed.

He crossed the room.

“I told you I’d ask when I came back.”

Dozens of people were watching.

William reached into his coat.

He removed a small ring.

Thin silver.

Worn smooth with age.

“My mother’s.”

Clare covered her mouth.

“She gave it to me before she died.”

His voice was no longer the voice he used at Coalition meetings.

“She told me to give it to the woman I could love without needing to own her.”

Then the Alpha King did something no one in the room expected.

He went down on one knee.

Victor stared.

Margaret went white.

William looked only at Clare.

“I am not asking for an alliance.”

Clare’s eyes filled.

“I’m not asking because you’re an Aldrich.”

His hand trembled slightly around the ring.

“And I’m not choosing you from a line of daughters.”

His voice softened.

“I’m asking you.”

Clare couldn’t breathe.

“Will you marry me?”

Her throat locked.

“I—I…”

Someone whispered behind her.

The old humiliation rushed back.

Clare closed her eyes.

Then William said quietly:

“Take your time.”

She opened them.

He was still there.

Waiting.

Not embarrassed.

Not impatient.

Clare took one breath.

Then another.

“I’ve spent most of my life hiding because I thought if people heard me struggle to speak, they’d decide I wasn’t worth listening to.”

William didn’t move.

“But you waited.”

Her voice trembled.

“You always wait.”

She took the ring.

“Yes.”

The word was clear.

William’s eyes closed briefly.

“Yes, William. I’ll marry you.”

He stood.

Victor immediately stepped forward.

“This is absurd.”

Clare froze.

Victor pointed toward Margaret.

“She is the logical choice. Clare has no political experience. She has no—”

“Stop.”

This time it wasn’t William.

It was Clare.

Everyone turned.

Her hands were shaking.

She let them shake.

“I am standing right here.”

Victor stared at her.

Clare’s voice caught twice.

She continued anyway.

“You’ve spent my whole life talking about me as if I weren’t in the room.”

“Clare—”

“No.”

A strange calm settled over her.

“You don’t get to decide whether I’m enough anymore.”

Margaret laughed bitterly.

“Congratulations. The quiet little sister finally found someone powerful enough to make everyone listen.”

Clare looked at her.

And suddenly she understood.

“You wanted him to choose you.”

Margaret’s face hardened.

“You wanted everyone to choose you.”

Silence.

Clare stepped closer.

“I know what that feels like.”

Margaret blinked.

“But you can’t make yourself visible by making me disappear.”

Margaret had no answer.

For once, Clare didn’t need one.

William took her hand.

Not to rescue her.

To stand beside her.

There was a difference.

Part 3

Their wedding was held six months later at Ashford Estate.

Not in a throne room.

Not beneath ancient banners.

They married beneath glass and steel in the estate’s botanical conservatory, surrounded by white flowers, lavender, and the people they had chosen to keep close.

Coalition leaders attended beside human business partners who understood only part of what they were witnessing.

Clare wore a simple ivory dress.

William wore black.

Cinder wore an expensive collar Thomas had bought for him and slept through half the ceremony.

When Clare reached William, he whispered:

“You came.”

She almost laughed.

“You invited me.”

“I was still nervous.”

“The Alpha King gets nervous?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

During the vows, Clare stuttered.

Once.

Then twice.

Nobody laughed.

William waited.

So did everyone else.

And Clare realized something extraordinary.

Silence wasn’t always judgment.

Sometimes silence was simply people giving you room to finish.

She did.

Marriage didn’t magically fix either of them.

William still disappeared into work when frightened.

Clare still avoided crowded rooms when overwhelmed.

Sometimes they argued.

Sometimes William became too protective.

Sometimes Clare refused help long after she needed it because accepting help still felt too much like admitting weakness.

But they learned.

William learned to ask instead of command.

Clare learned that boundaries could be spoken slowly and still count.

She also began working with Ashford’s medical foundation.

Not as decoration.

Not as “the Alpha King’s wife.”

Her knowledge of medicinal plants became the foundation for a rehabilitation and wellness initiative serving remote pack communities that lacked reliable clinics.

The woman Victor Aldrich had considered useless eventually stood before the Coalition Council and presented the program herself.

She stuttered through the first sentence.

Then continued.

No one interrupted.

William sat at the opposite end of the table and said nothing.

But Clare caught the smallest smile on his face.

That was enough.

Margaret approached her late at the wedding reception.

“I owe you an apology.”

Clare waited.

“I hated you.”

Margaret stared into her champagne.

“Not because you took William.”

She gave a small, humorless laugh.

“I hated you because you said no.”

Clare frowned.

“I’ve spent my whole life saying yes to Father. Yes to the dresses. Yes to the introductions. Yes to the dinners. Yes to becoming whatever people needed.”

Her eyes filled.

“And you were terrified of everyone, but somehow you were the only one brave enough to refuse.”

Clare reached for her hand.

“I know what it’s like to want someone to see you.”

Margaret looked at her.

Clare squeezed her fingers.

“I see you.”

Margaret began crying.

Then laughing because she was crying.

Then Clare was laughing too.

For the first time, they hugged without either sister pretending.

Later that night, Clare escaped onto the private terrace.

Thornwood glittered below.

Highways curved between dark hills. Aircraft lights blinked in the distance. Somewhere far below, a siren moved through the city.

The modern world continued without knowing an Alpha King had married his queen that evening.

Cinder lay beside Clare’s feet.

The terrace door opened.

William joined her.

“Your father leaves tomorrow.”

Clare nodded.

Their relationship with Victor wasn’t repaired.

Perhaps it never would be.

But before leaving the reception, Victor had done something unusual.

He had asked Clare about the greenhouse.

Actually asked.

And listened to the answer.

“He mentioned the lavender,” William said.

Clare looked at him.

“He noticed?”

“I think he’s beginning to.”

William stood beside her.

“He has a great deal to learn.”

“So did you.”

William looked offended.

“I was remarkably well adjusted.”

Clare laughed.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Careful.”

She leaned against him.

For a while they watched the city.

Then Clare straightened.

“William?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been practicing something.”

He immediately became serious.

“What?”

She faced him.

Years ago, Clare would have rehearsed the sentence until she hated every syllable.

Tonight she simply breathed.

“I love you.”

William went completely still.

“Not because you’re the Alpha King.”

Her voice trembled.

“Not because you gave me status. Not because people suddenly learned my name after you chose me.”

She touched his chest.

“I love you because you’re William.”

His eyes softened.

“Because you wait for me to finish speaking.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Because you pretend you don’t love an ugly three-legged dog even though everyone knows you do.”

Cinder’s tail thumped against the terrace.

William glanced down.

“Traitor.”

Clare laughed through her tears.

“And because you gave me something I thought I’d never have.”

“What?”

“You saw me.”

William was silent.

For once, Clare waited for him.

Finally he took her hand and pressed it against his chest.

“I’ve been afraid of those words for ten years.”

She knew.

“But I think I’m done letting an old betrayal decide what I get to have now.”

His heart beat beneath her palm.

“I love you, Clare.”

Her breath caught.

“Not because you’re brave, although you are.”

He touched her cheek.

“Not because you’re kind.”

His thumb caught her tear.

“And not because you’re the only woman in the Northern Coalition stubborn enough to reject me in front of her entire family.”

“I wasn’t stubborn.”

“You told the Alpha King no.”

“You deserved it.”

He laughed.

That rare, unguarded laugh she had first heard in the greenhouse.

Then he looked at her again.

“I love you because when I’m with you, I don’t have to be the King.”

Clare rose onto her toes.

“And who are you?”

“William.”

She smiled.

“That’s the man I chose.”

Then she kissed him.

Behind them, through the glass doors, politicians, executives, Alphas, relatives, security officers and old friends continued celebrating.

Below them, Thornwood City burned with electric light.

There were no castles.

No horse-drawn armies.

No medieval kingdom waiting beyond the gates.

There were skyscrapers and hospitals, encrypted phones and black SUVs, corporate towers and highways, surveillance cameras and private aircraft.

And hidden inside that modern world was another one.

A world of packs.

Old blood.

Old laws.

And an Alpha King powerful enough to command thousands.

But none of that was why Clare loved him.

William had come to the Aldrich family looking for a political wife.

He had told a father that any daughter would do.

Then he’d noticed the one woman everyone else had learned not to see.

And she had done the one thing no one expected.

She told him no.

Perhaps that was why everything that followed mattered.

Because when Clare finally said yes, it wasn’t because a king had chosen her.

It was because, for the first time in her life, she had been given the freedom to choose for herself.

And she chose William.