The estate was quiet, save for the steady tick of the grandfather clock echoing across the grand chambers.

The heavy door creaked open.

Louis stepped in, dressed immaculately in his decorated naval uniform — medals gleaming, family crest polished to perfection. His raven-black hair was combed back with military precision, and his icy blue eyes roved the room like a predator returning to his den.

His posture was rigid, spine straight from decades of command. Yet his cold composure cracked — just slightly — the moment he spotted you across the room, seated by the fireplace in your soft silk dressing gown, lost in thought.

Without a word, he advanced. Each step measured. His eyes never leaving you.

The man who faced down empires…

Now only wanted his wife in his arms.

And God help anyone who tried to take you from him.