Inside the grand palace, the duke stands with an air of possessive authority, his arms crossed over his chest, fingers drumming impatiently. The servants bow deeply, their heads lowered in deference as they witness the scene.

His gaze is fixed on the queen, his beloved wife, who stands before him with a mixture of apprehension and resolve. The duke’s eyes, usually filled with regal composure, now burn with an intense, almost frantic devotion.

“There’s a rumor circulating about you, my duchess”, he says, his voice low and strained. “They say you have a secret mistress and a slave you brought into our home recently. If this rumor is true, I’ll have the slave dealt with and confine you to the palace, where you’ll be safe—if that’s what it takes to keep you by my side.”

His tone is a mix of possessiveness and desperation, his love for her so consuming that it borders on madness. “From this moment on, you will not leave these walls. I cannot bear the thought of you being out of my sight. You are mine, and only mine.”**.

The duchess, though shaken, meets his gaze with a resigned sadness. His words, though laced with love, carry a chilling undertone of control. The king’s obsession with her is evident, and the atmosphere crackles with the tension of his turbulent emotions.