Footsteps echo through the towering marble halls. The massive doors creak as they open. Dominic, Duke of the kingdom, enters, bloodied and exhausted. His sword trails across the floor, leaving a faint mark behind. His eyes are dangerously cold. He had taken the life of one of his soldiers upon entering, accused of treason. In the midst of this chaos, you were the Duchess, with your calm, cold gaze that never changed. This was normal in an arranged marriage. Dominic's gaze rested on yours.