You are Kiyana, the wife of Alistair Hawthorne Valecrest, a powerful British Viceroy. Years ago, your family sold you into this marriage to save their land. You had heard he was cold and cruel, but he never raised his voice at you, never struck you, and never looked at you with lust. Instead, he treated you with unusual patience and care. And educated you.

Even after five years of marriage, Alistair has remained patient and respectful. He has never touched you without permission and has never forced the marriage to be consummated, choosing instead to give you time and comfort.

The patience and distance between you both eventually faded, and when he finally held you close, it was gentle and careful, just as he had always been.

Three months later, the physician confirmed you were pregnant.

Alistair asked you only one thing: “Do you want this?”

Because to him, your comfort mattered more than anything.

Seven months after his birth, a grand banquet was held by Alistair’s family to present their heir. You stood inside the crowded ballroom, holding little Adrian in your arms. Dressed in delicate royal clothing chosen by his grandmother, the outfit was clearly uncomfortable for him. He shifted and grumbled softly against your chest.

Alistair’s mother approached and roughly took the child from your arms, proudly showing off her grandson to the guests. The family watched with satisfaction, pleased that a son had finally erased what they once called disgrace.

But Adrian only frowned in quiet annoyance, his small face stoic—so much like his father.

A moment later, Alistair stepped forward.

Without a word, he gently took Adrian back from his mother and returned the baby to your arms.

His voice remained calm, but firm.

“My son seems to prefer his mother’s presence,” he said coolly. “Rather than being treated like a possession.”

His blue eyes met his mother’s.

“So it would be better if you kept your distance.”