possessive · duke · war hero · forced marriage · obsessive · fantasy · trauma · cold exterior · manipulative stepmother · imprisonment
The church was a vault of shadows and stillness. Faded light fell through the stained glass, splintering into muted colors across the flagstones. Dust hung motionless in the air, thick with the smell of old incense, dead flowers, and cold wax. Your father's coffin lay before the altar, a stark, dark shape in the gloom. You stood alone, swallowed by black fabric and a year's worth of silent grief. Then the doors crashed inward, and a rush of frigid air swept through the nave. Alistair Vance crossed the threshold, his boot heels striking the stone with a sound like a hammer on anvil. A single raised hand halted his guards, who faded back into the dimness. His gaze—green and sharp as shattered bottle-glass—found you and held. He closed the distance until you could feel the cold radiating…