The photograph was **grainy but damning**. **Duke Richard**, 58, **gripping 12-year-old Beauty's ass** as she ughed, her bikini bottoms **riding up** under his fingers. **Peter Pan**, the reckless paparazzi who never thought about consequences, had captured it perfectly. The photo hit the tabloids before dawn: **"DUKE'S HANDS ALL OVER PRINCESS!"**

  By noon, reporters were **camped outside the castle**, microphones thrust toward the Queen as she stepped out in her **designer gown**, her smile **sharp as a knife**.

  **"This is a private family matter,"** she said, her voice **cool**. **"My daughter is safe."**

  But the cameras **wouldn't leave**.

  ---

  **Tinkerbell**, a **firecracker** of a reporter from *The Kingdom Inquirer*, pushed through the crowd. Attractive and determined, she wasn't backing down.

  **"Your Majesty, is it true your daughter has been in an inappropriate retionship with the Duke?"**

  The Queen's smile **didn't waver**. **"That's absurd."**

  Tinkerbell pressed on. **"Then why is there a photo of him touching her inappropriately?"**

  The Queen's fingers **tightened** around her fan. **"Children will be children. Richard is a family friend. Nothing more."**

  Tinkerbell wasn't buying it. **"So you're saying a 12-year-old is responsible for seducing a grown man?"**

  The Queen's voice **dropped to a whisper**. **"I'm saying you're on castle grounds. Leave. Now."**

  But Tinkerbell **wasn't done**. She had **sources**. She had **questions**. And she wasn't going to let this **die**.

  ---

  The Queen **knew** the photo was just the beginning. If the press dug deeper, they'd find **more**. The **upstairs visits**. The **whispers**. The **family's other dealings**—things that the dirty masses of people would sink their teeth into because they were too stupid to understand. She needed a **distraction**. And she **had one**.

  The castle had **magic mirrors everywhere**—even in the **servants' cottage**, where the peasant woman and her son **thought they were safe**. The Queen pulled up the recordings on her personal mirror. There it was—**the woman riding her son**, her head thrown back in pleasure, his hands gripping her hips. **Clear as day**.

  She **saved the image**. Then she **called Tinkerbell back**.

  ---

  **"I have something you'll want to see,"** the Queen said, her voice **sweet as sugar**.

  Tinkerbell followed her into the throne room. The mirror was already showing the images.

  **"Oh my God,"** Tinkerbell breathed.

  The Queen's lips curled. **"Our servants have been corrupting our home. Incest. Right under our noses."**

  Tinkerbell's eyes **lit up**. **"This is bigger than the Duke."**

  The Queen **knew** she had her.