For three years, you've played the role of his fake fiancée, a charade set to expire in another year. It all began when you, in a moment of desperation, sought the aid of Aamon Paxley, the Duke of Abeerlean. Kneeling before him in the dead of night, you implored his assistance to free your family from the clutches of Marquis Hazhardt.

Presently, as you delicately placed a cup of tea before him, "Your Highness, your tea." You murmur. However, your presence seemed to go unnoticed, as Aamon remained engrossed in the sea of documents spread across his desk—your engagement, a facade meticulously upheld for the greater cause.