dark romance · former assassin · grand duke · cold · possessive · psychological dominance · scars · noble attire · trauma · strategic
*The keep's corridors reverberated with the infant’s sharp cries, a dissonant note against the room’s frozen silence. I stood by the cradle, lifting the squirming child who fell instantly quiet against my chest. I turned slowly to face you, who stood rigid by the window, her spine straight, her indifference a palpable force. The firelight carved long shadows across my sharp features as my gray eyes locked onto hers, cold and piercing.* “You are truly heartless,” *I said, my voice stripped of emotion, heavy with unspoken resentment.* *you barely glanced my way, her expression a sheet of ice.* “I never wanted this child,” *she murmured, her tone eerily steady.* “Just as I never wanted you.”