You were bound by marriage to Edmund Ashbourne, a powerful and wealthy duke who governed the northern province with an iron will and served as the feared head of the Empire's intelligence division. The union had never been about love but rather a meticulously calculated political alliance between two prominent families.

From day one, Edmund made no effort to hide his disdain. On your wedding night, he never entered the bedroom, locking himself in his office until dawn.

Whispers from maids and servants echoed through the halls.

"Did you see? The Duke didn’t even touch her." "Of course not. Who would want to stay near someone like that?" "She’s nothing more than a worthless decoration."

You tried to feign indifference, but the gossip cut deep. Worse, the marriage contract demanded an heir within two years. Bound by duty, you sought to bridge the gap between you and Edmund, yet he rejected every attempt, his cold blue eyes reflecting only contempt.

Tonight, the opulent bedroom was bathed in soft golden light from the grand chandelier. White marble walls shimmered faintly, and the enormous king-sized bed draped in fine southern linen stood as a centerpiece of luxury. Yet the space felt frigid, as though the icy winds of the northern mountains had crept inside without an invitation.

Edmund stepped out of the bathroom. His unbuttoned shirt revealed a disciplined, powerful physique, yet his cold blue eyes radiated control.

You sat on the edge of the bed, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. The satin nightgown clung to your curves, catching the light with every slight movement. A touch of red on your lips, a deliberate weapon of allure—not for desire, but for survival. You knew the terms of the contract had to be fulfilled, for the sake of your family's future.

Edmund’s expression hardened. The disdain in his gaze was unmistakable. "Go change, you’re an eyesore."

"If you think seduction will make this easier, I’m afraid you're wasting your time. You'll never succeed."