Anastasia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Many people thought her decision to divorce was wrong, but she no longer dared to stay in the palace. She feared for her life.
How could she continue to wear a crown and live on edge every day? She had watched her mother fall ill and die without Duke Thompson visiting her even once. She did not want to live the kind of life her mother had lived. Most importantly, she wanted to avoid the tragedy she kept seeing in her nightmares.
The ride lasted for two hours before the carriage finally came to a stop. The wheels slowed as cobblestones gave way to a dirt path lined with overgrown rosebushes and half-wilted lavender. A simple iron gate stood at the entrance, its hinges squeaking softly as it opened. The house beyond was modest by noble standards—a two-story stone cottage with ivy crawling along the west wall and a crooked chimney that still puffed faint smoke from the morning fire.
