"Duke, you didn't even attend your own wedding?" a man asked, standing inside the study with an expression of disbelief and frustration. "Your bride looked like she would burst into tears at any moment. You could've met the King another day. Why make an excuse just to avoid such an important occasion?"
Damian's jaw tightened. Without looking up from the desk, he spoke in a stern tone. "Louis, stop troubling me."
His gaze then flicked toward him. "And don't touch anything. How many times must I remind you?"
Louis immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, Duke. Forgive me for daring to touch anything in your sacred study without permission," he said, dipping his head in a slight bow, though the sarcasm still lingered in his voice.
Then he sighed and glanced toward the window. "Still… It's already late. Shouldn't you be in the wedding chamber with your wife?"
Damian's expression didn't change.
"She is not my wife," he said.
Louis blinked, stunned. "Don't be ridiculous—"
"I mean it." Damian's voice lowered. "Mother arranged this. I agreed reluctantly because Roman needs a mother. That's all." He leaned back slightly, irritation brewing beneath his calm exterior. "But why should I perform marital duties when—"
Thud!
The door flew open so abruptly it struck the wall, silencing Damian mid-sentence.
"Do you even realize how much humiliation I had to endure at the wedding grounds?" Lady Georgia's voice rang through the study.
Damian paused. Slowly, he set down the quill in his hand. Only then did he lift his gaze toward her.
Georgia stood at the doorway before she walked in. Her elegant appearance couldn't hide the fury simmering beneath the surface.
Louis pressed his lips together, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. Without saying another word, he slipped past Lady Georgia and quietly left the study, closing the door behind him with far more care than it deserved.
Damian rose to his feet, facing his mother with a stare as cold as winter's snow.
"Mother," he began, "I told you I would accept your choice. But I never said I would stand at the altar."
His eyes hardened further, his voice turning even sharper. "You wanted a daughter-in-law. You wanted someone to be Roman's mother." He took a step forward. "That is what I gave you. But don't expect me to pretend this marriage is anything more than what you forced it to be."
"Is this truly how a Duke speaks about his mother's choice?" Georgia demanded. "You may be the Duke, Damian, but you still have duties—duties to this family as well."
Damian remained unmoved.
Georgia's eyes narrowed, her anger deepening. "Do you even know what people were saying at the wedding grounds? What were they whispering while your bride stood there alone like a fool?" Her voice trembled slightly, not with weakness, but with humiliation. "Poor Eilika had to endure their cruel remarks because of you."
Damian finally responded with a dismissive tone. "I have never cared for people's gossip. Let them speak. They always do."
"That isn't the point!" Georgia snapped.
She stepped closer, holding Damian's arms. "You will go to your wife's wedding chamber and exchange the rings. You will do it properly, and you will do it now. That is my order."
Damian let out a humorless chuckle. "I won't exchange anything."
Georgia's face paled. Her lips parted as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Then her voice rose, trembling with fury and heartbreak.
"Do you want me dead?" she cried.
"Mother—" Damian's voice sharpened, warning her to stop.
But Georgia didn't.
"What more do you want, Damian?" she demanded, and suddenly her anger cracked, revealing grief beneath it. "It has been four years… Four years since you started mourning your dead wife."
Her eyes glistened. Tears slipped down her cheeks, ruining the composure she held till now.
"If you cannot give even the slightest joy to your own mother," she continued with a quivering voice, "then what good will you ever do for this dukedom? What good will you do for Roman?"
Damian's jaw clenched hard.
Georgia wiped at her tears but couldn't stop them..
"If you have even an ounce of love and respect left for your mother…" she whispered, "you will go to Eilika's chamber and exchange the rings with her."
Damian stared at her for a long moment. He exhaled sharply in surrender.
"Fine. I'll do it." He finally agreed.
He held out his hand. "Give me the rings."
Georgia shook her head. "They are with Eilika."
Then she reached into the small purse she had fastened around her wrist and took out a small navy-blue velvet box before placing it into Damian's palm.
"Take this," she added. "Give it to her as a gift. Tell her it's from your side on your way home."
Damian's fingers tightened around the box.
He said nothing.
Without another glance, he turned and strode out of the study, heading at last to meet the woman his mother had chosen for him.
He finally reached the East Wing of the residence and stepped inside without slowing. The corridor was quiet but the air heavy with the scent of faint floral perfume, showing the traces of the wedding preparations.
The maids stationed outside immediately bowed in reverence, lowering their heads as he approached. Damian didn't spare them a glance.
The bedchamber doors stood closed before him as if waiting for him to be opened.
"Leave," Damian ordered coldly. "I don't want a single soul lingering in this wing."
The maids stiffened.
"And if I find anyone lurking around here, they won't see tomorrow's sun," he threatened.
Fear flashed across the maids' faces. They bowed again, and scattered down the corridor as if chased by death itself.
Within moments, the East Wing fell silent.
Damian stood before the doors, his hand hovering over the handle for a brief second. Then he pushed them open and stepped inside.
The room was warm, lit by dozens of candles placed around the chamber. Their soft golden glow danced along the polished furniture, the carved bedposts, the pale curtains, turning everything into a dream meant to feel romantic.
To Damian, it was suffocating.
Without hesitation, he strode to the nearest candle and extinguished it with a sharp breath. Then the next. And the next, moving like a storm through the room, snuffing out every flame until the brightness faded into darkness before finally turning to bed.
He had no desire to look at Eilika, who was now his wife. The last duty he wanted to do was putting the ring in her finger in this darkness.