Deyonjay Stone’s stronghold buzzed with anticipation as preparations for the grand event to introduce Krissan Jarrett as his wife were underway. The opulent halls were adorned with cascades of flowers and shimmering tapestries, a lavish display befitting their forced union.
Krissan stood in her chambers, adorned in a gown of deep crimson—a symbol of her defiance amidst the sea of forced compliance. Her reflection in the mirror betrayed a tumult of emotions—anger, resentment, and a fierce determination to reclaim her dignity in the face of Deyonjay’s control.
Marcus, ever present in his stoic silence, appeared at the doorway. “Lady Krissan,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of caution. “It is time.”
With a nod, Krissan followed Marcus through the labyrinthine corridors to the grand ha
