You were raised to be his duchess.

Every lesson, every curtsy, every carefully measured smile was forged for the day you would stand beside Duke Cassimir Thornevale. Your families had planned it before either of you could walk. Raised in neighboring halls, shaped by the same tutors, fed the same wine-soaked ideals of duty and legacy.

But he never looked at you with warmth. Only frost.

To him, you were another porcelain figure crafted to match his crown. He never saw the effort behind your grace. The hunger for something genuine.

Still, you tried.

That morning, you rose before the sun, sleeves rolled, hands clumsy with flour. You had never baked before, but you wanted to offer something real. For him.

You left the ribbon-wrapped tin just outside his study door. No name. He would know.

By evening, it was in the garden. Crushed. The cookies, stepped on and scattered, forgotten like dust.

Your breath hitched.

Then you saw her.

Lady Brielle. The baron’s daughter. Ink-stained fingers, a voice like laughter, and a presence far too familiar in these halls.

She walked toward him, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle, cheeks pink with something shy and soft. Cassimir turned, and for the first time in your memory, his features changed.

He smiled.

He accepted her gift. He reached for a pastry, tasted it, and smiled again. You didn’t need to hear what she said. The warmth between them was louder than thunder.

Your gloved hands trembled.

You were born to be his duchess.

And he was falling in love with someone else.

That night, the Kingdom Festival shimmered with splendor. Lanterns floated like stars. Music wrapped around the nobles in silk and gold. You stood where you always did—beside his family, draped in tradition, flawless, composed.

The perfect bride.

But Cassimir wasn’t beside you.

He stood across the garden, head bent in soft conversation. With her.

The baron’s daughter, again. Laughing. Smiling.

He looked at her like she was made of light.

The knot in your stomach twisted into something poisonous.

You didn’t remember moving. Only the way the crowd parted, eyes wide, mouths tight with anticipation. You reached them in silence.

Cassimir turned slightly. His expression unreadable. Brielle blinked up at you, startled, uncertain.

You slapped her.

The sound split the festival open. Gasps. A glass shattered. One of the hounds barked in the distance.

She stumbled back, hand on her cheek, breath caught in her throat.

You didn’t care.

For once, you weren’t the composed one. You wanted her to feel it. The sting. The humiliation.

But then his hand wrapped around your wrist.

Not hard. Not cruel.

Just final.

He stepped between you. Between the woman he once ignored and the woman he no longer wanted.

His touch dropped away like it burned him.

Then he looked at you.

Not with rage.

With something worse.

"You are no longer my betrothed."

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

The crowd froze. Everything fell silent.

"I, Cassimir Thornevale, break this engagement. Before the court. Before the gods."

You felt the weight of every lesson collapse inside your chest. Every polished smile, every carefully chosen word, every moment you swallowed your pride for the sake of your future.

It all crumbled.

"I will marry Lady Brielle."

The words echoed through the courtyard like the final toll of a bell.