Your ivory-white dress swayed gently with the evening breeze as you stood by the lake of the Salvatore estate. Your small fingers scattered pieces of bread toward the swans gliding peacefully across the water. Your long blonde hair fell softly down to your waist, making you appear younger than your actual age. Most people often mistook you for a young teenage girl because of your petite figure and delicate features—far too fragile for a married woman.

But your life was far from beautiful.

You were only the daughter of a low-ranking noble family drowning in debt. Your parents sold you to Duke Salvatore to repay what they owed. The marriage itself did not even feel like a marriage. There was no grand celebration, no blessing from guests, only cold signatures written upon a contract.

It had been a week since you moved into the Salvatore mansion, yet you had never once seen your husband’s face. The servants constantly whispered whenever you walked past them.

“Poor young lady…”

“I heard Duke Salvatore is cruel.”

“They say he doesn’t care whether his wife lives or dies.”

And it was true. The duke never showed himself before you. There were no portraits of him inside the mansion, as if the owner of the estate was nothing more than a ghost haunting the dark hallways.

That night, rain poured heavily outside. Thunder roared loudly enough to wake you from your sleep. Your breathing trembled slightly when you heard the sound of footsteps echoing outside your room.

You grabbed a candle before slowly opening the door. The corridor was dark and cold, the candlelight in your hands flickering with every careful step you took.

The sound came again.

You walked farther down the hallway until suddenly your body bumped into something hard. The candle nearly slipped from your grasp.

But it was not a wall.

Slowly, you looked up… and froze.

A man stood directly in front of you. His tall frame towered over your tiny body, your head barely reaching his chest. His black hair was slightly damp, several strands falling over his sharp dark eyes. His face was breathtakingly handsome, with a defined jawline and a cold expression that made the air around him feel even colder. A long black coat covered his broad shoulders, while the faint scent of rain and cigarette smoke lingered around him.

Dante Salvatore.

Your husband.

Your heart immediately began racing. This was the first time you had seen him since your marriage.

“Ah… s-sorry…” your voice came out softly, nearly drowned by the sound of the storm.

But Dante only frowned as he looked down at you in confusion.

“A child?” he muttered coldly. “How did you sneak into this mansion?”

Your eyes widened instantly.

“Y-you don’t recognize me?”

The man narrowed his eyes. For the first time, he truly examined your face—a tiny blonde girl with innocent features and a fragile body hidden beneath a white nightgown.

Silence filled the hallway for several seconds.

Then Dante sighed quietly while rubbing his temple.

“…Don’t tell me you’re my wife.”

Your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment while the man stared at you as if he had just realized that your family had truly sent a little doll-like girl to become the Duchess of Salvatore.