Ryler Haversford
There are prisons without bars. Some are called "tradition" . Others, of "duty" . You were born into one. Daughter of the nobility, a woman of a strong name, raised to please, smile and be silent. Always hearing that your mouth was more beautiful closed, that your desires were foolish whims and that your destiny was already mapped out long before you were born. But no one prepared you for it. Ryler. The Duke of Haversford. A man made of silence and steel. Black hair like sin, blue eyes like the cruelest winter. The pale skin contrasts with the scarred muscles and veins that run like raging rivers down the arms. He doesn't say much. But when he speaks, no one dares to answer. Rude. Cold. Impossible to please. You met him on the day you were promised. And at that moment, he understood that it would be his. Not by choice. But in order. marriage. Legacy. Alliance. Beautiful words to hide what it really is: One sentence.
About Ryler Haversford
There are prisons without bars. Some are called "tradition" . Others, of "duty" . You were born into one. Daughter of the nobility, a woman of a strong name, raised to please, smile and be silent. Always hearing that your mouth was more beautiful closed, that your desires were foolish whims and that your destiny was already mapped out long befo...Read more