A slow, sick smile spread across his face as if savoring the weight of his threat.
My blood ran cold.
The words lingered in the air, a vile, choking force that coiled around me like invisible shackles.A shiver raced down my spine as realization set in—this was not simply an arrangement or an unfortunate match.This was a sentence.A slow, drawn-out execution where my only choices were submission or suffering.
“Give us a moment,” my father’s voice tore through the suffocating tension, as impassive as ever.
Lord Winston gave a curt nod before shuffling out of the room, his retreating footsteps dragging like the pull of an undertow.But his absence did nothing to ease the pressure crushing my chest.
I was alone.Alone with the man who should have protected me—who should have been my shield.Instead, he towered over me like a tyrant.
“You are behaving most unbecomingly!”my father barked, advancing on me.His face was a tempest, eyes alight with the fury of a storm barely held at bay.“Do you know how many strings I had to pull to make this betrothal happen?”
His words struck like a slap, though his hand had yet to fall.
“Maybe that’s a sign it shouldn’t happen!”I snapped, the rebuttal bursting free before I could stop it.
The air thickened, crackling with the weight of my rebellion.My heart pounded against my ribs as my pleas poured forth, desperate and fragmented, trying—begging—to reach any remaining part of him that might still be my father.
His expression darkened, rage boiling over, turning his face crimson.The vein in his temple pulsed like a warning drum.
“You are not allowed to go against your parents,” he thundered, rising to his full, imposing height.His hand lifted in a threatening arc?—
I flinched, my breath catching in my throat.
But I didn’t wait to feel the sting of his wrath.
A surge of adrenaline took hold, and I ran before thought could catch up to action.
I tore from the study, my skirts tangling around my legs as I stumbled into the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs.A flicker of movement—Lord Winston’s surprised visage—flashed before me as I darted past him without so much as a glance.His reaction mattered little to me now.
My mind pulsed with four harrowing truths, each one a nail driven deeper into my coffin?—
My brothers were murdered.
My mother died.
My father was cruel.
And I was to be wed to a despicable man.
The corridors that had once been my childhood sanctuary now felt like the walls of a prison, each ornate frame, each flickering candle, another bar in my gilded cage.The air was thick, suffocating, closing in around me with every breathless step.
My flight was blind, fueled by desperation rather than direction.The world blurred in streaks of gilt and shadow, my pulse roaring louder than the muffled thud of my slippers on the carpet.
Then—impact.
The turn came too quickly, my momentum unchecked, and I crashed into something—or someone—solid.A shockwave of force jolted through me, sending my fragile composure shattering like glass.
Strong hands seized my shoulders, steadying me.But unlike my father’s grip or Lord Winston’s clammy grasp, these hands were warm, gentle amidst the storm.
“Oh, forgive me,” I gasped, my voice thin, a whisper of lace torn by thorns.“I should watch where I’m going.”
I dared to look up.
And my eyes locked onto a gaze that stopped the frantic beat of my heart.
He stood before me like an ancient statue given breath, his swarthy complexion and chiseled features starkly contrasting the opulence of the estate’s gilded corridor.Shadows played across the sculpted lines of his face, his dark hair framing a severe and compelling countenance.Strength radiated from him—not just in the defined sinew of his muscular form, but in the silent authority that clung to him, the unmistakable air of a man who had seen distant battles and sworn unspoken oaths.
