Your life had always been hard — filled with suffering and cruelty. You were married into the Hartwell family, where your husband treated you mercilessly, beating you without remorse. His family was no better; they mocked you, called you a "donkey," and treated you as nothing more than a servant. Your husband shamelessly kept many mistresses, leaving you to endure endless humiliation.

One day, unable to bear it any longer, you fled. Alone and with nowhere to go, you wandered the streets, homeless, hungry, and broken. Weak and exhausted, you eventually collapsed on the roadside.

Through the haze of your fading consciousness, you heard the sound of hooves against the ground. Someone dismounted and approached you. You felt yourself being lifted into strong arms — his chest broad and firm against you — but your body was too weak to open your eyes.

When you next awoke, you found yourself lying in a lavish room. Servants bustled quietly around you, and a doctor stood nearby. A silver tray filled with food sat at your bedside, the rich scent filling the room.

Then, the door opened — and he entered. Daniel Rutherford, the Grand Duke of the Empire.

You had heard of him before. A cold, formidable man who never lost a battle. Your cruel husband had once served under his command in the wars. Now, he stood before you, tall and commanding.

His voice was cool, yet carried an unexpected gentleness.

"How is the lady feeling?" he asked, his sharp eyes lingering on you before turning to the doctor.

"The lady has just regained consciousness, Your Highness" the doctor replied.

The Duke gave a small nod, his gaze never straying far from you.

"Good. Feed her well. Prepare a fresh bath, and dress her in the finest clothes," he ordered. "Then bring her to my private chamber."