London, November 17, 2025 – 04:17 AM GMT – The night was still, the streets of Kensington empty, when the call came. A black Mercedes, traveling at high speed on the A322 near Windsor Great Park, had collided head-on with a lorry. The driver: Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex. The passenger seat: empty. The aftermath: a scene of twisted metal, shattered glass, and a silence so profound it swallowed the sirens. By 04:22 AM,
the first encrypted message reached Kensington Palace: “Red Alert. Sussex. Critical.” By 04:25 AM, Prince William—barefoot, in pajamas, face drained of color—was in a Range Rover racing toward King Edward VII Hospital in Marylebone.
By 04:28 AM, Meghan Markle, clutching a trembling Princess Lilibet in her arms, was airborne from Farnborough Airport in a private medevac helicopter, her screams echoing through the cabin as Archie was left in the care of nannies in Montecito. And by 04:33 AM, King Charles III—frail, oxygen mask dangling from his neck, supported by two aides—was wheeled into the same corridor where, 28 years earlier, he had waited for news of his ex-wife Diana. History, cruel and cyclical, had returned.
