Chapter 9
After arriving in Castalia, I spent most of my days plotting one thing: how to deal with Andreas Valentine.
How could I make it clear–without ending up dead–that I wasn’t here to play the role of a real wife? That I was willing to carry the title, maybe even the appearance, but not the obligations.
But what struck me as odd was this: three days passed. Then four.
Not a glimpse. Not even a whisper of him.
Not even a shadow.
The butler and staff pampered me like I was royalty.
I mentioned I liked horseback riding by that evening, they had a private stable under construction just outside the estate.
The horses were pedigreed and stunning. I could pick whichever I wanted.
I casually commented
worth millions.
d on а
piece of jewelry
wwwww a magazine–by afternoon, the butler laid out an entire collection of rare gemstones,
They even brought in a private French Tusion chef, rotating dishes daily like I was homesick royalty.
But every time I asked to meet Andreas, I got the
He was too busy. He hadn’t returning
A full week passed.
to the estate.
same sponse:
One glance at the new softness around my waist, and I knew I couldn’t keep lounging like this.
So I staged a little emergency.
A harmless substance slipped under my tongue, and suddenly, my body temperature spiked on the thermometer.
A picture–perfect imitation of a high fever.
It worked like a charm.
The entire estate went into chaos.
The butler panicked. Called in a full medical team.
Emergency supplies arrived overnight.
They hovered by my bed, whispering in hushed tones, baffled and helpless.
And I?
I kept “sleeping,” motionless, forcing them to huddle for hours in hushed worry, completely stumped.
Just when I felt like I couldn’t fake it another minutes, I heard it-
Footsteps outside the room. Slow. Measured. Commanding.
The butler’s voice followed, low and reverent.
“Sir, she’s still unconscious… the fever hasn’t broken…”
The door creaked open.
I cracked one eye open–just barely–and held my breath.
So this was him.
Chapter 9
64.29%
The infamous heir to the Valentine Syndicate.
Andreas Valentine.
He leaned in to check my temperature, and as he did-
Our eyes met.
1-1
Or rather, two emerald–green eyes met mine–sharp and startling, like polished glass over deep water. So clear, I could see my reflection in them…
“You… you’re awake?”
The boy–yes, boy–jumped, startled. He spoke perfect English.
I blinked.
”
Porcelain skin, soft brown curls, long lashes, round green eyes…
He looked maybe seventeen. Eighteen at
. Like a boy pulled straight from an old European
This was my husband?
This sweet–faced, harmless–looking little lamb?
painting.
“Who… are you?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He fidgeted with his fingers nervously but answered honestly, “Andreas.”
I stared, stunned.
Surely this wasn’t him
But then the butler stepped forward, bowing slightly.
“Yes, Ma’am. This is Mr. Valentine.”
公
W
A
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Chapter 9
