The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 103: Why Him?

The child had no name.

From the moment he entered the world, he was unwanted, a sin that should have never been born.

His mother, a woman of faith, once served as a healer in the sacred halls of the Grand Solis Cathedral, where she dedicated her life to prayers, tending to the wounded, and offering comfort to the weary.

She was a kind soul, beloved by the people who came seeking solace.

But her fate was sealed the moment she caught the eye of a man who should have never set foot in such a holy place.

The King of Sinalta.

She was barely more than a girl when he took notice of her. At first, she thought it was a passing curiosity, something fleeting that would soon be forgotten.

But fate was cruel, and power was absolute. The king, ruthless in his desire, claimed what he wanted without hesitation.

She was taken from the sanctity of the church and forced into the cold, merciless palace, where she became nothing more than a hidden secret, a concubine in the shadows.

She bore his child in secret, locked away where no one would know.

But as much as she despised the way she had been used, she could never bring herself to hate the life growing inside her.

She loved her baby before he was even born. For nine months, she whispered prayers over her belly, hoping against all odds that the gods would grant her child a peaceful life.

She dreamed of running away, of raising him far from the twisted, venomous court where only blood and power mattered. She wanted him to have a name, an identity, a future.

But she was naive. The moment he took his first breath, he was stolen from her arms. She never even got to hold him.

The king had ordered it, his child would not be raised by a woman who had no noble blood. The moment the servants pried him from her weak, trembling hands, she knew she had lost.

She screamed, begged, and fought with everything she had left. But no one listened. She was a nobody. A fallen woman with no power.

She was thrown out of the palace, discarded like trash, as if her existence had never mattered.

The world turned its back on her, and she wandered the streets, searching for any trace of the child she had lost.

She never found him. And in her endless grief, she withered away.

She spent her last days in a broken chapel, staring at the ceiling, whispering the name she had wanted to give him, Noctis.

It meant "night" in the old language, a name that held both sorrow and beauty. But no one ever called him that. Because to the world, he did not exist.

The little prince’s life was nothing but darkness. He was raised in the depths of the palace, locked away from sight.

He had no name, no birthday, and no one to call mother or father. The only ones who spoke to him were the servants assigned to his care, cold, detached, and never offering kindness.

They called him "boy" or "child," never with warmth, only duty. He learned quickly that crying was useless.

That no one would come to soothe him when he woke up in the dark, shivering from cold nightmares.

That hunger was a punishment, and kindness did not exist in the world he was born into. The first time he spoke, no one answered.

The first time he laughed, he was struck for making noise. The first time he reached for someone, they recoiled. He learned silence. He learned stillness.

He learned to survive by being invisible. He was allowed outside only once. He had snuck past the guards when he was three, his tiny feet pattering against the palace halls.

He had no idea where he was going, only that he wanted to see something beyond the stone walls of his prison. What he found was beauty.

A garden bathed in golden light, filled with flowers swaying in the breeze. And a woman.

She was sitting beneath a tree, her back turned to him. But something about her felt familiar. His tiny heart pounded as he stepped forward, drawn by something he didn’t understand.

She turned.

Her eyes were green, like the stories of the forest he had overheard from the maids. Her hair was the color of moonlight, long and soft. And when she saw him, her lips parted in shock.

The boy did not know that she was the queen. He only knew that she had looked at him, really looked at him, as if he was someone worth noticing.

"Who are you?" she asked.

But before he could answer, the guards arrived. He was dragged away, thrown back into his dark world. And that night, the beatings were worse than before.

"You do not exist," the head servant hissed as he struck him. "Do you understand, child? You are nothing."

Nothing.

The word burned itself into his mind. And from that day on, he never tried to leave again.

The years passed, and the boy grew. But he did not live. He merely existed, a nameless shadow lurking in the forgotten corners of the palace.

No one spoke to him unless it was to give orders. No one touched him unless it was to discipline him. No one looked at him unless it was with disgust.

And yet, he never hated them.

He didn’t know how. Hate was something that required strength, and he had none.

His body was small, and fragile, his bones sharp beneath his thin skin. He was always cold, always hungry, always tired. But he never cried. Not anymore.

Crying changed nothing. Then one day, everything changed. A new order came from the king himself.

The boy was to be moved. Not to a better place, but to a worse one.

A place beneath the palace, where the walls dripped with moisture and the air smelled of damp stone.

The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

He was chained.

Beaten.

Tested.

His blood was taken, over and over, because he was "special."

The boy did not understand. He only knew pain. And when they left him alone in the dark, he whispered to himself the only name he had ever known.

Noctis.

The name his mother had wanted to give him. Even though no one ever called him that, even though it was just a forgotten whisper, he held onto it.

Because if he did not have a name, then he truly would be nothing.

And he did not want to be nothing.

Even if no one ever loved him.

Even if he never saw the sun.

Even if he was destined to die in this darkness.

He wanted to be something.

Even if only in a memory that no one else would ever know.