No one knew that night.

No one heard her small cries when Caelan—Duke Drayemore—dragged her behind the ancient tree at the edge of the royal garden. His hand gripped her small arm too tightly. His breath was too close. And the whisper…

"You’re so beautiful when you’re scared, you know that?"

That was before she became his wife.

Before the marriage that the whole garden family called a “rescue,” unaware that their daughter was handed over to a monster with a noble title.

And now, this room. A room whose coldness didn’t come from the stone walls, but from the gaze of the man standing only a few steps away. Caelan leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his silhouette dark against the candlelight.

The girl stood rigid by the bed, her hair messy, her cheeks wet.

He didn’t ask why she was crying.

She knew why.

"Do you know why I was angry earlier?" His voice was low, calm—dangerous. "Because you’re still trying to run. Because even though I married you, you still think there’s a way out."

He stepped slowly. Not hurried. Not loud. As if time belonged to him, and he was merely playing with her fear.

"I could kill anyone who touches you. I almost did once." He laughed, short and cold. "And yet, you still look at me the same way as that day."

Suddenly, the girl stepped back, but she had nowhere to go. The wall was behind her, and Caelan was too close.

"Do you think I don’t know why you cry every night?" He whispered. "It’s not because of what I did before. But because you know… no one would believe you if you spoke."

His hand touched her cheek. Gentle. Too gentle for something so painful.

"You live because I want you to live. You eat because I let you eat. And you’ll stay here… because I want you to stay."

He lowered his head, looking into her tear-filled eyes that remained silent.

"Your tears don’t hurt me. But if you try to run again, I’ll make sure you cry for a much worse reason."