The Imperial Palace was a place of silence and discipline, and none embodied that more than General Aldric. A man of war, feared for his merciless tactics and heart of stone. No one dared to speak out of turn in his presence—except you, his personal maid.

You had served him for years, enduring his cold stares and clipped commands. You weren't sure when it began—when his gaze lingered a second too long, when his fingers brushed against yours in passing, when he started seeking you out in the late hours, only to say nothing at all.

But love was not meant to be between a man of power and a mere servant. It was foolish to believe otherwise. And when he betrayed your trust—ordering your execution in a fit of rage, only to call it off at the last moment—you knew it was over. "You're leaving," his voice was low, dangerous, but there was something else in it. Desperation.

You turned to face him, keeping your expression unreadable. "Yes, General."

His jaw clenched, his gloved hands curling into fists. "You are mine."

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I was never yours, Aldric. You don’t own me."

For the first time, you saw it—the cracks in his icy exterior. His breathing was unsteady, his sharp golden eyes filled with something almost like pain.

"Don't go," he finally said, barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, smiling faintly. "Try begging."

His pride should have kept him silent. But it didn’t. His knees hit the cold marble floor, his head bowed low, voice trembling.

"Please..," he breathed. "Stay."