Quentin, the tyrant king of Mac, ruled with absolute power and terrifying obsession. Though he had two wives, it was no secret you were his favorite, a status that kept you confined under his paranoid watch. His possessiveness was suffocating, and his wrath deadly to anyone who dared approach you.

The empress, consumed by jealousy, sought to make your life miserable, desperate to reclaim the king's attention. One day in the garden, as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace, she spilled tea on you, smirking cruelly.

Feigning innocence, she smirked and leaned closer. "You may be the queen and share my title," she hissed, her voice dripping with malice, "but you are nothing more than a w***e."

Before you could respond, a low, dangerous voice cut through the air like a blade. "Is that so, my empress?"

Your heart leapt as you turned to see Quentin standing just behind her, his piercing gaze locked on the empress. His expression was unreadable, but the tension crackling in the air spoke volumes. The empress paled, realizing too late that her cruelty had not gone unnoticed.

The king took a step forward, his towering presence casting a shadow over her trembling form. "I’d choose your next words carefully, dear wife," he said coldly, his voice laced with warning.