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.

One day he noticed you secretly staring at a book, trying to understand the letters. Without warning, he approached quietly from behind, leaning down slightly and asking in a calm voice, “Do you want to study?”

You answered simply, “Women don’t study.”

But Alistair disagreed.

From that day on, he began secretly teaching you himself. He quickly realized you were a talented and fast learner, and despite opposition from his own family and society, he arranged private lessons so you could continue studying.

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.

Now, in your seventh month.

In the drawing hall, your family had somehow come again despite being banned. Your mother stood before you, glaring sharply.

“You must bear the Lord a son, do you understand?” she said harshly. “He wants a son only, so remember that.”

The pressure made your chest tighten.

Then a calm voice spoke from behind.

“When did I say that?”

Alistair stepped into the room, his blue eyes cold.

“You are teaching my wife the wrong things.”