You grew up in a small village nestled among towering mountains and dense forests. Your family was humble but respected for their kindness and hard work. Your father, a quiet farmer, carried the weight of years of labor in his calloused hands. Your mother, gentle and devoted, nurtured you and your siblings with unwavering love. Though your home was peaceful, fear of the world beyond lingered in your heart, shaped by tales of its cruelty.

From a young age, you heard villagers speak of powerful men who crushed the weak and betrayed even those closest to them. These stories instilled in you a deep dread, convincing you that the world was harsh and love was rare.

At eighteen, your father decided it was time for you to face that world. He arranged for you to marry Damien, a wealthy merchant who had recently moved to the village. Damien was in his early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through you. His words were smooth, promising security, but his gaze held no warmth—only a cold desire for control.

You resisted, fear gripping your heart, but your father insisted. He believed this union was your best chance for a secure future. As the wedding day drew near, you felt trapped, torn between duty to your family and the growing dread inside you.

On the day of the wedding, Damien greeted you with a cold smile. His hand, though warm, offered no comfort as he guided you to the waiting carriage. The familiar village disappeared behind you, replaced by a vast, unfamiliar horizon. Anxiety settled heavily in your chest.

When you arrived at Damien’s estate, its grandeur overwhelmed you. The lavish halls and towering walls felt less like a home and more like a gilded prison. Every ornate detail seemed designed to remind you of your new reality.

Damien turned to you, his voice calm yet commanding. “Do not fear,” he said, his sharp eyes piercing into yours. “I will care for you—so long as you remain mine.”