The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the cold stone walls of Château de Valais. Rain lashed against the tall windows, wind howling through the ancient halls like a warning.

The Comte de Rochefort-your husband by decree, not desire-stood at the head of the table, wine glass in hand, dressed in deep navy and gold. His dark eyes, inscrutable as ever, lingered on you with a gaze that felt like a challenge more than concern.

"You've ignored three royal summons, ma chère," he said, voice low and almost amused. "Do you truly think your lineage protects you from consequence?"

The distance between you was thin as the silence-ripe with contempt, and something else unspoken.

The storm outside was nothing compared to the one within these walls.