It was Damian’s third wedding anniversary. He didn’t want to go to work; all he wanted was to be with Vanessa. But he had no choice. Today was payday, and he finally planned to buy her the bag she had been dreaming about. He had imagined this moment countless times, rehearsing every word he would say when he surprised her. The thought of seeing her smile carried him through even the hardest days. His stomach fluttered with anticipation, and a small warmth spread through his chest just thinking of her. Vanessa was still asleep when he left. He stood quietly beside the bed, watching her chest rise and fall with peaceful breaths. Part of him wanted to wake her just to whisper, Happy anniversary, but he didn’t want to disturb her rest. They were expecting a baby in just a few months. The least he could do was make her happy. He had planned an anniversary outing later on -all to see her smile, to bring some joy to her, and to the little life growing inside her.He leaned down, press

It had been a year since Damian was locked away like an animal. Life in prison was brutal—merciless, unrelenting. Every day was a battle, every night a reminder of the mistakes that had destroyed his life. The walls were cold, the air heavy with dust and despair, and the echoes of shouting guards and clanging doors made it feel like the world outside had disappeared completely. He lay on his cot most nights, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how everything had gone wrong. How could the same woman he had loved with every ounce of his being betray him so completely? How could the woman he had married—who carried his dreams, his hopes, and now their unborn child—turn her back on him in such a final, cutting way? Vanessa. Her name still burned on his tongue. Even now, thinking of her made his chest tighten, made his stomach twist into knots. He understood that their marriage had never started the right way. Her father, Uncle Simeon, had pleaded with him to marry her after Damia

Damian arrived at the meeting point just as dusk was bleeding into night. The shadows stretched long across the cracked pavement, and the chill in the air gnawed at his skin, though he barely noticed it. His eyes darted to every corner, every alley, searching for a sign, a silhouette, anything. But there was nothing. Not a single soul. He waited, muscles tensed, tapping his foot on the ground out of impatience and unease. Minutes stretched like hours. He kept pacing, back and forth, his mind racing with possibilities. Was this a trick? Was someone watching him from the shadows? A trap? The stranger had promised help, and now… now it felt like he had been abandoned. Damian’s chest tightened. He stopped and looked toward the looming cellblocks in the distance. The lights flickered in the windows as inmates disappeared into the night, retreating behind locked doors. By now, everyone would have gone to bed. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He had been so

Days had gone by since Vanessa’s visit. Damian hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t imagined that after so long without seeing her, the mere memory—or even the thought of her—could still cut this deep. The pain sat heavily in his chest, quiet yet relentless, refusing to ease. It gnawed at him with a slow, merciless persistence, and no amount of time seemed to dull it. For days, Damian remained in his cell, heartbroken and withdrawn. He barely moved, barely spoke, and even the simplest necessities had lost their meaning. Food felt tasteless; water was lukewarm and hollow. Time had become a blurred monotony, stretching endlessly like a dull ache he could not shake. One evening, Jayden returned from the dining hall and approached him cautiously. Concern was etched across his face, furrowing his brows as he studied Damian. “You didn’t come to eat,” Jayden said softly, his tone almost hesitant. Damian didn’t reply. He didn’t even blink. He stared straight ahead, eyes distant, as thoug

“Yes, Your Grace.” “Excuse me?” Damian let out a short, bitter laugh that scraped against the rawness of his split lip. “I just got out of jail. There is nothing grace about me,” he said, his voice edged with sarcasm, though the exhaustion beneath it made the words waver. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his knuckles. “Grace… about me?” He shook his head slowly, fatigue and disbelief heavy in his chest. “If you would excuse me, I have a life to catch up with.” “Your Grace, we implore you to come with us. We know you have suffered for so long here. Please… allow us to repay the lost time,” the man said, his voice gentle but firm, carrying a weight of sincerity that Damian wasn’t used to hearing. Damian’s brow furrowed, confusion tightening his chest. “What are you talking about?” His voice was rough, almost breaking, betraying the frustration he had carried through months in confinement. “You are a duke, the Duke of Ravensmere.