William and Kate look like the dream pair. It was at the University of St. Andrews that the Prince and Princess of Wales met.
There were some ups and downs in their relationship, but they made it through and got married.
They now have a wonderful family. After his father, King Charles, only time will tell when it is William’s turn to take the throne.
The Prince and Princess Kate really care about their friends and other people they know. But some years ago, a shocking claim about William and a woman who was rumored to be his lover shocked the royal family and fans…
It was not just any woman; it was one of Princess Kate’s best friends. What did really happen? Who is this woman said to be her mistress? How about we take a better look?
Prince William and Princess Kate met at St. Andrews University and became friends there. Before they met, they were both with other people, but it was clear right away that their partnership would be different.
They lived in St. Salvator’s Hall, the same dorm, and went to the same classes and talks. After their second year, they moved in with some friends in a private home, which is where their love grew.
It seemed like William and Kate shared a sense of fun, which was one of the things that made them click.
“She’s got a really naughty sense of humour, which really helps me because I’ve got a really dirty sense of humour so it was good fun, we had a really good laugh, and then things happened,” William said in their engagement video.
It wasn’t long before everyone, or at least the British tabloids, found out that Kate Middleton was dating the future king.
Naturally, the papers wrote as much as they could about the couple. However, they didn’t just write “love is in the air” stories. Instead, they were interested in Kate’s private life and even called her mean things.
Neither William nor Kate went to college in 2005. Kate had a Master of Arts in history and William had a Master of Arts in geography.
Even though they were very close, it looked like other people were trying to hurt their relationship.
Katie Nicholl said that William’s friends made fun of Kate by calling her mean names and making sly jabs at her because of Carole’s job. She was an air hostess for British Airways before she and her husband, Michael, started their well-known business.
Nicholl said on the Dynasty podcast from Vanity Fair that William’s “snooty” friends used this against him. They said “doors to manual” in a whisper when Kate walked into a London bar.
Some upper-class people were also said to have called the princess’s family “the en masse Middletons.”
Kate was called cruel nicknames by William’s friends
The prince’s upper-class friends, who are called the “Glosse Posse” because they are from Gloucestershire, talked down to Kate like she was not worthy of their attention. But Kate never shut up about the “derogatory” things people said about her. Instead, she decided to not look at them.
“It was never water off a duck’s back, but she has extraordinary strength of character and resilience. I’ve never once seen or heard of her losing her temper,” a royal aide told the Sunday Times Magazine.
A source told the Daily Mail in 2021 that Prince William “flew off the handle” when his friends made fun of his lover.
“He flies off the handle at any sign of Kate being patronised and stamps that out very quickly. It’s one of his triggers,” the royal source said.
“Over the years, many people have come up with great ideas for her, but if they are put across in a dismissive way, they’ve got pretty short shrift from him.”
Many people thought it was the start of what would soon be an engagement at that point. But things went badly after only two years.
William and Kate split up in 2007, which got a lot of attention. At the same time, things seemed unstable a year ago when William and Kate turned down each other’s requests to spend big holidays together.
For example, William reportedly turned down Kate’s parents’ invitation to spend New Year’s Eve with them just a few days before, which made Kate cry.
Married in 2011
Nicolell wrote in 2011 a book called The Making of a Royal Romance, in which she said that Kate was afraid for the future of their relationship.
William said he would meet Kate and her family, but he called on Christmas Day to back out. He chose to stay with the royal family instead.
He didn’t know what to do, so the future king talked to the Queen and his father, Charles, about how he felt. It was easy for them to answer.
“William had been having second thoughts and sat down with his father and his grandmother to have a frank discussion about his future with Kate. Both advised him not to hurry into anything,” Nicholl claimed in her book.
The love story between William and Kate was still alive, of course. Their friendship was strong, and they made up.
They got married in Westminster Abbey on April 29, 2011. In 2013, they had their first child, Prince George, who will become king. In 2015, they had Princess Charlotte, and in 2018, they had Prince Louis.
People look up to Prince William and Princess Kate as examples of how royals should act in public. It’s also about how they raise their kids. They have made it clear for many years that they want George, Charlotte, and Louis to have a normal childhood, even though they have to follow some rules. They are royal after all, and those rules can seem pretty strict to someone outside.
In 2019, though, a very bad story spread in a US tabloid that shocked the royal family. Had William cheated on his wife?
William was rumored to have had an affair with Kate’s friend Rose Hanbury
The first thing that needs to be said is that nothing has been proven. An American magazine called In Touch said in April 2019 that William “may” have had an affair with Rose Hanbury, who is the Marchioness of Cholmondeley and a friend of Kate’s.
The “falling out” between William, Kate, and Rose was written about in tabloids.
It was reported in In Touch that Kate told William about the claims, but William “laughed it off” and said they weren’t true.
At the time, Richard Kay, a royal expert for the Daily Mail, spoke out against the reports and said they were all lies.
“Both sides have considered legal action, but because none of the reports have been able to offer any evidence about what the so-called dispute is about, they have chosen to ignore it…
These hurtful rumors of a fallout are simply false,” Kay wrote.
There was a lot of talk about it, and in 2019 the Daily Mail said that Kate would “phase out” Rose Hanbury from their group of friends.
Rose lived close to William and Kate, knew a lot of the same people, and had homes in Norfolk that were close to each other. This didn’t help.
William and Kate’s summer home in Anmer Hall is close to Houghton Hall, where Rose and her husband live. Houghton Hall is said to have 106 rooms.
Old Man Shuts the Door on Annoying Teen, but a Hurricane Exposes the Truth About Her – Story of the Day
When a grouchy old man slams the door on a persistent teen, he thinks he’s rid of her for good. But when a hurricane traps them together, the storm outside reveals the truth about her shocking connection to his past.
Frank had lived alone for many years. The quiet suited him, and he’d long accepted the absence of friends or family in his life. So, when he heard a knock at the door one Saturday morning, he was startled but more annoyed than curious.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
With a heavy groan, he pushed himself out of his recliner. When he opened the door, he saw a teenage girl standing on the porch, no older than sixteen.
Before she could speak, Frank snapped, “I don’t want to buy anything, I don’t want to join any church, I don’t support homeless kids or kittens, and I’m not interested in environmental issues.” Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He turned to leave but froze when the doorbell rang again. With a sigh, he shuffled back to his chair, grabbed the remote, and turned up the TV volume.
The weather report showed a hurricane warning for the city. Frank glanced at it briefly, then shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he mumbled. His basement was built to withstand anything.
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The doorbell didn’t stop. It kept ringing, over and over. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Each ring grated on Frank’s nerves. Finally, he stomped back to the door, muttering to himself. He flung it open with a scowl.
“What?! What do you want?!” he barked, his voice echoing down the quiet street.
The girl stood there, calm, her eyes fixed on him. “You’re Frank, right? I need to talk to you,” she said.
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Frank narrowed his eyes. “Let’s say I am. Who are you, and why are you on my porch? Where are your parents?”
“My name is Zoe. My mom died recently. I don’t have any parents now,” she said, her voice steady.
“I couldn’t care less,” Frank snapped. He grabbed the edge of the door and started to push it closed.
Before it could shut, Zoe pressed her hand against it. “Aren’t you curious why I’m here?” she asked, her tone unwavering.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“The only thing I’m curious about,” Frank growled, “is how long it’ll take you to leave my property and never come back!” He shoved her hand off the door and slammed it so hard the frame rattled.
The doorbell stopped. Frank peered through the curtains, checking the yard. It was empty.
With a deep sigh, he turned away, feeling victorious. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of his nightmare.
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The next morning, Frank woke up, grumbling as he dragged himself to the front door to grab his newspaper.
His jaw dropped when he saw the state of his house. Smashed eggs dripped down the walls, their sticky residue glinting in the sunlight.
Large, crude words were scrawled across the paint in messy black letters, making his blood boil.
“What in the world?!” he shouted, looking around the street, but it was empty.
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Grinding his teeth, he stormed back inside, grabbed his cleaning supplies, and spent the entire day scrubbing.
His hands ached, his back throbbed, and he swore under his breath with every stroke.
By evening, exhausted but relieved to see the walls clean, he stepped onto his porch with a cup of tea.
But his relief was short-lived. Garbage was scattered across his yard—cans, old food, and torn papers littered the lawn.
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“Stupid girl!” he shouted at no one in particular, his voice echoing through the quiet neighborhood.
He stomped down the steps, grabbed some trash bags, and began cleaning. As he bent to pick up a rotten tomato, his eyes caught a note taped to his mailbox.
He yanked it off and read aloud, “Just listen to me, and I’ll stop bothering you. —Zoe.” At the bottom, scrawled in bold numbers, was a phone number.
Frank crumpled the note and hurled it into the trash.
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The next morning, loud shouting woke him. He looked outside to see a group of people waving signs.
“Who the hell are you?!” he yelled, opening the window.
“We’re here for the environment! Thanks for letting us use your yard!” a hippie-looking woman called.
Fuming, Frank grabbed a broom and chased them off. Once they were gone, he noticed a caricature of himself drawn on the driveway with the caption, “I hate everyone.”
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On his front door was another note:
“Just listen to me, or I’ll come up with more ways to annoy you.
—Zoe.
P.S. The paint doesn’t wash off.”
And again at the bottom was a phone number.
Frank stormed inside, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed the phone and dialed Zoe’s number with shaking hands. “Come to my house. Now,” he barked and hung up before she could respond.
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When Zoe arrived, her jaw dropped. Two police officers stood on the porch beside Frank, their expressions serious.
“What the—? Are you kidding me?!” Zoe shouted, glaring at him.
Frank folded his arms and smirked. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Guess what? You’re not.”
The officers cuffed Zoe. “You old jerk!” she yelled as they led her to the car. Frank watched, smug, believing this was the end of his troubles.
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The next day, the city issued a hurricane warning. The winds howled, bending trees and tossing debris down the empty streets.
Frank looked out the window as he prepared to head for his basement. His eyes widened when he spotted Zoe outside, clutching her backpack and stumbling against the wind.
“What are you doing out there?!” Frank shouted, flinging open the door. The wind nearly tore it from his hand.
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Zoe turned, her hair whipping around her face. “What does it look like?! I’m looking for shelter!” she yelled, her voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “I have nowhere else to go!”
“Then come inside!” Frank barked, stepping onto the porch.
“No way!” Zoe snapped. “I’d rather face this hurricane than go in your house!”
Frank gritted his teeth. “You were desperate to talk to me yesterday. What changed now?”
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“I realized you’re a selfish, grumpy idiot!” Zoe shot back.
Frank had enough. He stomped down the steps, grabbed her backpack, and hauled her toward the door.
“Let me go!” Zoe screamed, twisting against his grip. “I’m not going with you! Let me go!”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Frank bellowed, slamming the door behind them. “Stay out there, and you’ll die!”
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“Maybe that’s fine! I have nothing left anyway! ” Zoe yelled, her face red. “And do you think your stupid house is some kind of fortress?!”
“My basement is fortified,” Frank growled. “It’s survived worse than this. Follow me.”
Zoe glared at him but hesitated. After a moment, she sighed and trudged after him toward the basement.
The basement was surprisingly cozy. It looked like a small, well-used living room. A single bed sat tucked in one corner, with shelves of old books lining the walls.
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A pile of paintings leaned against the far side, their colors muted by age. Zoe glanced around, unimpressed, then dropped onto the couch with a loud sigh.
“You wanted to say something? Now’s your chance,” Frank said, standing stiffly near the stairs.
“Now you’re ready to listen?” Zoe asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We’re stuck here for who knows how long. Might as well get it over with,” Frank replied, leaning against a shelf and folding his arms.
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“Fine,” Zoe said. She reached into her backpack, pulled out some folded papers, and handed them to him.
Frank frowned as he took them. “What’s this?”
“My emancipation papers,” Zoe said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Frank blinked. “What?”
“It’s so I can live on my own,” Zoe explained. “Without parents. Without guardians.”
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“How old are you?” Frank asked, squinting at the documents.
“Sixteen… almost,” Zoe replied, her voice firm.
“And why do you need my signature?” Frank asked, looking at her sharply.
Zoe met his eyes without hesitation. “Because you’re my only living relative. I’m your granddaughter. Remember your wife? Your daughter?”
Frank’s face paled. “That’s impossible.”
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“It’s very possible,” Zoe said with a cold laugh. “Social services gave me your address. When Grandma talked about you, I thought she was exaggerating. Now I see she didn’t tell me half of it.”
“I’m not signing this. You’re still a child. The system can take care of you.”
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“You’re joking, right?” Zoe snapped. “You were a terrible father and husband! You left Grandma and Mom to chase some fantasy about painting. Your art isn’t even good—I was better at five! And now, after all that, you won’t even sign a piece of paper to help me?”
Frank’s hands clenched. “It was my dream to be an artist!” he shouted.
“It was my dream too!” Zoe shot back. “But Grandma’s gone. Mom’s gone. And you’re the only family I have. You’re also the worst person I’ve ever met!”
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They sat in silence after that, the tension heavy in the room. Frank knew Zoe was right. He had been selfish. Back then, he had seen only his art, blind to everything else.
After two hours, Frank finally spoke. “Do you even have a place to stay?”
“I’m working on it,” Zoe muttered. “I’ve got a job. I still have Mom’s car. I can manage.”
“You should be in school, not figuring out how to survive,” Frank said.
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“Life doesn’t work out the way we want,” Zoe replied, her voice soft but firm.
For the next few hours, Frank sat silently, watching Zoe sketch in her notebook. Her pencil moved with confidence, every stroke purposeful.
He hated to admit it, but her art was bold, creative, and alive. It was far better than anything he had ever painted.
The radio crackled to life, its monotone voice announcing the hurricane had passed. The storm was over.
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Frank stood, his joints stiff, and gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s go up,” he said. Once upstairs, he glanced at Zoe and handed her the signed documents without a word.
“You were right,” he said, his voice low. “I was a terrible husband. A lousy father too. I can’t change any of that. But maybe I can help change someone’s future.”
Zoe stared at the papers for a moment, then slipped them into her backpack. “Thanks,” she said quietly.
Frank looked at her and nodded. “Don’t stop painting. You’ve got talent.”
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Zoe slung the bag over her shoulder. “Life decided otherwise,” she said, heading for the door.
“You can stay here,” Frank said suddenly.
Zoe froze. “What?”
“You can live here,” Frank said. “I can’t undo my mistakes, but I also can’t throw my own granddaughter out on the street.”
“Do you really want me to stay?” Zoe asked.
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“Not exactly,” Frank admitted. “But I think we might both learn something.”
Zoe smirked. “Fine. Thanks. But I’m taking all your art supplies. I’m way better than you.”
She turned toward the basement. Frank shook his head. “Stubborn and arrogant. You get that from me.”
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