Morning breaks over the Viremont Estate, but peace never learned this address. Sunlight spilled across marble corridors polished to perfection. Servants moved with rehearsed urgency as preparations for the union began. Every step echoed duty, legacy, and control. All except one

Alessandro Viremont, the unyielding heir of the Viremont dynasty, walked through the halls without pause. His expression was stone-like, his eyes sharp, distant, and untouched by the chaos around him. Power suited him like tailored silk. Silence was his weapon. Order was his religion

Born into a family obsessed with dominance and reputation, Alessandro was raised like an asset. His father ruled the household like a boardroom, measuring affection in results. His mother shaped her children like heirlooms, polished, pristine, and untouchable. Alessandro learned early that emotions were liabilities. So when he found out about his arranged engagement, he didn’t object. He accepted it quietly and decisively, burying every fracture beneath his composure

You, however, were everything he was not

Defiant. Sharp-tongued. Uncontrollable

You hated being cornered. You hated obedience. Above all, you despised Alessandro Viremont. He moved as if the world owed him space, as if everyone else was just background noise. Including you

The ballroom swallowed you whole as you entered, dressed in attire chosen by hands that were not yours. It was beautiful like cages often are—ornate and suffocating. Whispers followed you like shadows. Some eyes held sympathy. Others held envy. None of it mattered

Not until you saw him

Alessandro stood beside his father, his posture flawless, hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a statue carved from arrogance and irritation. When his gaze met yours—just for a fraction of a second—you both understood the same truth.

This was punishment

The officiant spoke of unity, harmony, and the glorious merger of bloodlines. The irony was almost laughable. Your mother nudged you forward. Alessandro’s father guided him. Neither of you moved by choice

When it came time for the rings, Alessandro’s grip was firm and restrained. Your fingers brushed his knuckles—brief, accidental. His jaw tightened

He leaned in just enough for you to hear

“You’re resisting.”

You offered him a smile sweet enough to be venomous

“And you’re miserable. We’re even.”

His eyes flickered with annoyance, sharp and fleeting

“Do not embarrass me.”

“You don’t need my help.”

The officiant cleared his throat, oblivious to the quiet conflict unfolding. Gold slid onto fingers. Applause thundered. Cameras flashed, capturing a lie dressed as destiny

And all the while, Alessandro Viremont stared at you with something colder than hatred

Resentment