บททั้งหมดของ Stolen Identity, Forced Marriage: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 8

The next afternoon, I went to the Silvered Thread, a jeweler known for catering to the nocturnal aristocracy.I needed a reciprocal gift for the Prince’s bracelet. A token.I remembered the rumors: Kaelan Nocturne’s eyes were said to be the color of frost over a deep, poisoned well. A piercing, unsettling green.I found a pair of cufflinks. They were shaped like coiled serpents, their eyes tiny, flawless emeralds.A practical, respectful gift.As I paid and turned to leave, a familiar, sugary voice pierced the quiet of the shop.“Oh, Marcus! Look! Elara is such a stubborn one. She refused your generous offer just yesterday, and now she’s buying you such an expensive token. I could never be so… clever.”Liana was draped on Marcus’s arm. He looked at the velvet box in my hand, and a smug, triumphant grin spread across his face.“And here I thought you were above such games, Elara,” he drawled. “Trying to buy back my favor? So you don’t have to face the matching ledger?”It was then I rem

Two days later, I stood in my family’s foyer, the weight of the gown heavy on my shoulders. It was a masterpiece of black velvet and silver filigree, beautiful and severe.The room was filled with wedding gifts from the Prince’s allies—caskets of aged blood-wine, chests of moon-forged chalices, ancient tapestries depicting scenes from the Long Night. A fortune in grim splendor.My parents approached me, their steps hesitant. My mother wrung her hands.“Elara,” my father began, his voice low. “About Liana’s… confession. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. A moment of youthful rivalry. To demand she humiliate herself at your wedding… it’s so harsh. Can’t you find it in your heart to be merciful? To be the bigger person?”The last, fragile hope I’d clung to—that they might see me, just once, on this day—shattered into dust.I had made excuses for them. For the empty seat where a dowry chest should be. For the lack of any familial blessing. I’d told myself they were distracted, forgetful.B

He was waiting again.I saw the silhouette against the iron gates of the Nightfall Citadel from my window, a persistent, wretched stain on the manicured gravel path. Three days. He had been there for three days, a ghost haunting the edges of my new life.“He is a persistent cockroach,” Kaelan’s voice was a low murmur from behind me, his presence a cold comfort against the evening chill seeping through the glass.“He is nothing,” I said, my fingers tightening on the velvet curtain. “Just dust.”But dust has a way of settling where it’s not wanted. I had finally had enough. I turned from the window and strode down the grand staircase, my heels clicking a sharp, angry rhythm on the black marble. I pushed through the heavy oak doors into the courtyard.The evening air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and distant rain. He was there, just as I’d seen him. Marcus. He looked like a ghost of the man I’d once foolishly given my loyalty to. His fine clothes hung loose on a fram

Liana was making a spectacle, and she was good at it. She wailed, she clung, she declared her pregnancy to the silent, judging hall. The whispers began, sharp and disapproving, directed at the human making a scene among the ancient and powerful.The story spilled out in her hysterical cries. After Marcus severed ties with her—symbolized by him stealing her protective silver and holy water—her welcome in his household had vanished. My human parents, finally seeing her manipulative nature, had closed their doors to her pleas. She’d been destitute.Then, she’d realized she was pregnant.It was her last card. Her only leverage. Even as Marcus tried to pry her off, recoiling in disgust, she clung to him with a ferocity born of sheer survival. The child was her ticket back in.The scene was a grotesque comedy. Marcus’s own father, a man deeply concerned with human social standing, pushed through the crowd, his face purple with humiliation. He couldn’t strike a pregnant woman, even one like L