His Despised Stray Is A Hidden Queen

After my parents died, my pureblood uncle threw a pouch of ten thousand gold coins onto his mahogany desk.

He demanded I take my seven-year-old brother, drop out of the magic academy, and cross into the mortal slums forever.

"Consider your connection to this house severed."

He sneered, warning me never to tell a living soul we carried the Price blood. My cousin Isla smiled her fake, angelic smile while my uncle mocked that we would starve on our empty pride.

We were thrown out, forced to hide in a damp, rat-infested attic in the lower districts.

Even Damien Carlisle, the supreme pureblood commander of the magic council, looked at me through the rain with arrogant, dismissive pity. To him, I was just a pathetic, broke teenage mother dragging an illegitimate child through the mud.

They all thought I was a helpless stray, a nobody they could easily crush with their endless wealth and elite status.

They had no idea that I was "Silent," the ruthless, undefeated duelist of the underground rings.

And they certainly didn't know I was the legendary "Saint Hand"—the exact master alchemist that Commander Carlisle was currently tearing the city apart to find to save his dying grandmother.

I shoved the pouch of blood money back across the desk, took my little brother's hand, and walked out of the manor without looking back.

If the high purebloods wanted to play games with our lives, I would gladly bankrupt them all.