What are the chances an orphan goes from scrubbing floors to becoming a Duchess in forty-eight hours?

100%— I would know because it happened to me.

Only I wish I had a choice.
Because the man I'm supposed to call "father," Baron Tobias Fletcher, sold me off like livestock the moment he found me. Nineteen years of wondering where I came from, and this is how it ends? 

Not with a family. 
Not with answers.
With a wedding contract and a husband who never removes his mask.

The Duke of Wellspring. Nevan Wilder.
Every fiancée before me? Dead. Mad. Or gone — vanished like they never existed. 
They say he kills his brides the night they see what's underneath.

So shame on me for thinking meeting my father would finally end my misery. 
And shame on me twice because when the Duke took my hand in that ballroom, his touch ice-cold and impossibly gentle, I didn't feel fear.

I felt something worse.
I felt safe.

Now I'm trapped in his estate, married to a man the whole kingdom fears, and the more I uncover, the less anything makes sense. 

Because if Nevan truly kills his brides, why is he trying so desperately to keep me alive?

And whatever he's hiding beneath that mask? It's not the thing I should be afraid of.

"Yes!" She nodded. "Eventually. I'm not cut out for this life, and there's no version of the future where I spend it shackled to a man like that."


"So you proposed a business contract to the Duke of Wellspring on your wedding night?" Despite everything, I felt a laugh building in my chest.


"Our wedding night was days ago; this was just a celebration." She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and continued reverently. "He countered with a condition and said I must give him two children. I told him he was insane. He cornered me against a wall and then he —" Her fingers drifted to her lips, pressing the swollen skin as if checking whether they still belonged to her. "He kissed me."


I nodded, trying to keep the smile on my face. "It seems so."


Chapter 67 - There had to be another way.