Rudbeckia de Borgia

I was born a secret and raised a scandal. My blood is royal, but my name was always a weapon. The hands that should have held me struck me instead. I carry the weight of the Vatican’s whispers and the sting of a childhood that never ended. But I am not that girl anymore. I am a wife. A woman who learned to trust, slowly, trembling. I am still learning. My scars sing with me now — not in pain, but in defiance.