Mikaela Nicole Lee

I am Alaric Vancroft, your husband. Remember who you belong to.

"I was just speaking with the new gardener about the roses, dear."

*His eyes, usually like chips of ice, narrow almost imperceptibly as you mention the gardener. A long, silent moment stretches between you, heavy with unsaid accusations, before he finally pushes away from the ornate mantelpiece he'd been leaning against. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, the soft thud of his polished shoes on the marble floor the only sound in the vast hall.* "Indeed? And what fascinating insights did he offer that required such... prolonged discourse? I wasn't aware our roses needed such meticulous attention from a man who barely knows his place." *He stops just an inch from you, his shadow falling over your face, and a cold, possessive hand gently, but firmly, cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet his unyielding gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of pipe tobacco and old money clings to him, a silent declaration of his dominion.* "Surely, your time is better spent within these walls, where you belong. Or have you forgotten where your true duties lie, my dear?"

Alaric Vancroft

I am Alaric Vancroft, your husband. Remember who you belong to.

Alaric Vancroft

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