Chapter 1

The moonlight was cold, spilling into the room and painting long, thin shadows across the floor. It did nothing to warm the chill that had settled deep in Seraphina' s bones. She knelt before him, her hands trembling where they rested on her knees.

"Valerius, please," she begged, her voice a raw whisper. "You have to believe me. It wasn' t me."

Lord Valerius stood over her, his tall frame a menacing silhouette against the window. He looked down at her not with love, not even with pity, but with a cold disgust that cut her more deeply than any blade.

"Believe you?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "How can I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

He didn't move, but she felt the weight of his stare, the sheer force of his anger pressing down on her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped thing.

Just a year ago, on a night much like this, he had held her in his arms in this very room. He had promised her forever. He had traced the line of her jaw and sworn that no one would ever harm her, that he would always be her shield. His words had been a warm blanket against the world. Now, they were just bitter ash in her memory.

"I promised I would be with you always," he had said then, his voice thick with emotion. "Only you, Seraphina. My wife, my life."

The memory was so vivid it made the present reality feel even colder, even more brutal. The man who had made that promise was gone, replaced by this stranger filled with ice and contempt.

He finally moved, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His eyes, once so full of warmth, were now hard and unforgiving. He reached out, not to comfort her, but to grab the collar of her nightgown. With a sharp tug, he ripped it open, exposing the skin of her shoulder.

There, just above her collarbone, was the mark. A small, ugly tattoo of a withered flower, branded into her flesh. It was a symbol of shame, a mark given to the lowest of the low in the city's darkest corners.

Seraphina flinched, trying to cover herself, a wave of shame and terror washing over her. His fingers tightened on the fabric, holding it open for him to see.

"Explain this," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Explain how my wife, the noble Lady Seraphina, came to have the mark of a common whore on her body."

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his face. She couldn't tell him. The truth was a tangled, horrific secret, one she had sworn to keep to protect him. If he knew, it would destroy him, and as much as he hated her now, she couldn't bear to be the cause of his ruin.

"I can' t," she whispered, the words choked with unshed sobs.

His face contorted with rage. "You can' t, or you won' t?"

He saw her silence as guilt. The disgust in his eyes deepened into pure loathing. He shoved her away from him, and she fell back onto the cold stone floor with a cry of pain.

"You disgust me," he spat, his words like venom. "To think I ever touched you. To think I shared my bed with something so... soiled."

He stood up, towering over her again. He saw her tears, her torn gown, her trembling form on the floor, and it only seemed to fuel his fury. He took a step toward her, and she scrambled backward, her heart seizing with fear. He was going to hurt her. She could see it in the clenching of his fists, in the tight line of his jaw.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the blow, a silent scream caught in her throat. But it never came. Instead, she heard his sharp, cruel laugh.

"Don' t worry," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "I won' t dirty my hands on you."

He turned his back on her, his posture rigid with rejection.

"Get out of my sight," he commanded, his voice final. He didn' t look back as he strode out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind him. The sound echoed in the sudden, crushing silence, a definitive end to everything they had ever been. Seraphina was left alone on the floor, shivering in the cold moonlight, the shameful mark on her shoulder burning as if it were fresh.