Prologue

Prologue.

On a cold day, I was summoned by my father. My father, who is the Marques of this land, seems to be in a bad mood.

I slowly walked around the great empty hall of this grand estate. It was as if I was walking on ice because of how cold and silent it was.

It was cold despite being in hell. I was walking on a path that would lead me into the hell called Marquez's office.

But it wasn't strange to feel the coldness, I am almost so used to it that I had become numb. With tattered and dirty clothes, cold air runs through my spine.

I continue to slowly walk, trying to appreciate the view outside from the tall windows. Try to look at the great paintings and portraits that are coldly staring at me.

As if it wasn't pleased with my existence.

Ah.

How could I forget?

It wasn't just the portraits hanging on the walls that are staring at me coldly. I forgot that they exist, maids and servants who keep staring at me with disgust and contempt.

Some kept glaring, some were whispering, and some were just doing their work and business.

I do indeed need that kind of treatment.

Thanks to them, my life in this hell was much more agonizing. After slowly walking, I came to a halt in front of the huge double wooden door.

The office of the Marques.

I sighed and closed my eyes. I do want this to get over with immediately. I don't want to see my half-sister's face.

I took a deep sigh as my hands touched the metal doorknob.

It was cold as I clutched it.

Using my right hand, I twisted it and pushed it open.

Click.

The sound echoed inside the room as the door softly swung open.

A chill runs through my body.

In front of me were a desk and a table. Behind the desk was a tall and broad figure standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling glass window.

All I could see was the cold back of the Marques. He didn't bother to turn around, to look at his very own daughter. As if I'm not worthy of his attention.

Indeed, I am not worthy.

From my background to my skills, I have no talent or intelligence. I am the biggest disgrace of this house, the illegitimate daughter who was conceived while the Marques were still the heir of this land.

My mother, who was a slave, died after my birth.

"I greet the Marques." I gave my salute as I tried hard to do a curtsy which I miserably failed.

An embarrassment.

I gripped tightly on the edge of my skirt, looking down on the flourishing carpet. Even if I didn't lift my head, I could still find out and feel Marques' cold eyes from the reflection on the glass window.

There were no responses as if he didn't hear me or my voice.

I hate it.

I hate how the Marques looks at me.

The silence continued as if it was some sort of punishment for being able to do something young ladies could do.

I was tired from all the work and my neck was starting to feel sore. It feels like my head would come off of my neck.

Before I could say another greeting, a loud bang echoed.

Bang!

The door was pushed open with brutal force. Soon, heavy footsteps echoed inside.

I was startled but didn't dare to lift my head.

"What is the meaning of this Arturo!?" a high-pitched voice bombarded the room.

I closed my eyes, trying to stay silent so that she could not hear or notice me. The one who burst inside the room was no other than the Marchesa.

The Marques' wife.

Her angry voice could be heard in all corners of this office.

Sigh.

I don't want to be here if a fight broke out. I always knew that Marchesa's anger would be directed at me.

"Have you gone crazy!?" The Marchesa continued to shout.

The Marques sighed as he slowly turned around to face his wife.

I slightly lifted my head and moved aside, trying not to gain their attention. He only turns around to people he deems worthy of his attention, and I'm afraid I'm not one of those people.

"Do you think I didn't know!? How could you!?"

The Marques looked into her eyes and said, "You need to calm down, Mara."

The Marchesa laughed, a mocking one. "Me? Calm down? How could I calm down when I knew that my daughter would be marrying someone who's a psychopath and a tyrant!? My daughter! Our daughter!"

He sighed and sat down in his chair behind the desk. The Marchesa was still fuming mad.

"It's the King's order. If you don't want to be accused of treason, I suggest you keep your tone down."

The older man had adopted the habit of the previous head of the house, tapping on his desk with his finely crafted quill as he spoke. I stared at the gloved hand holding the quill.

Ah.

So that was it.

"Then what are you doing!? Do something! I won't ever sell my daughter to that tyrant! That bloodthirsty Duke born from a dirty background!" she protested with all her might.

The Marques sighed and rubbed the temples of his head.

"I cannot disobey the King." He simply replied as his eyes were born into me for the very first time.

I was startled and immediately lowered my head to the ground. Gripping the hem of my skirt tighter than before.

It was a bone-chilling experience, his eyes were so cold and soulless that it frightened me.

The Marchesa seemed to finally have noticed me as I felt her burning gaze drill a hole into my back.

"You will marry the duke, Isabelle. You will replace your sister and marry the Northern Duke of the Azuela Empire." His voice echoed in all corners.

A felt shatter could be heard.

And that's when I knew my world came crashing apart.