The Duchess in Disguise

Thunder roared across the night sky, rain and wind lashing the ancient castle. Outside, a woman's screams were shredded by the downpour, swallowed whole by the endless darkness. She was covered in blood, dragged mercilessly through the mud by a pack of werewolf guards clad in black uniforms. She struggled, slipping and rolling in the muck, her body bearing the marks of claws and whips. Blood streamed down her pale face, mixing with the rain, soaking into the earth as if washing away every last trace of her memory. "Enough. She's gone ten meters. Let her die on her own," the lead guard snapped, cracking his whip. His voice, cold and cruel, cut through the rain like nails scraping against her eardrums. "Let's get back and report," another guard said impatiently, flicking water from his fingers. His eyes glinted with disdain. "Of all the men, she just had to fall for Prince Cassian of the Aldrich family? Does she even know her place?" "Yeah, everyone knows the third prince only cares about looks. She even dared to threaten him with her father's life? She got what she deserved." Their cold laughter faded into the storm, leaving her alone, sprawled in the freezing mud. Her trembling fingers clawed at the earth. Her dress was torn to shreds; blood and rain carved crimson trails down her skin. Still, she forced her head up, defiance smoldering in her eyes—the last shred of her dignity. "I... didn't... I never... I never threatened him to marry me..." Her voice was hoarse, choked, barely louder than the rain. Like a petal trampled underfoot, her final plea was lost to the night. Memories surged over her, drowning her soul. She remembered that stormy night, when he rode his black warhorse through the tempest and stopped before her. Cassian—the third prince of the Aldrich family—eyes of molten gold burning with an untouchable light, as if he belonged to another world. "Your father died for me. From this day forward, you are mine." He hauled her onto his horse, cold and commanding, a sentence passed—or perhaps, a salvation granted. There had been one night, beneath the fortress’s unforgiving stone walls, when he held her tight, his voice rough but warm against her ear: "Don’t be afraid. I’m here." She remembered his rare gentleness in the glow of candlelight. "Looks don’t matter. What matters is your heart. Aya, you’re fine just as you are. I like you this way." She remembered that birthday, under the full moon’s light upon his hair. "Happy eighteenth birthday. From now on, every year, I’ll be with you. All right?" His words had sounded like a vow, sinking deep into her bones. But now, all of it had vanished like a dream. As the rain faded, darkness engulfed the grand hall. Candle flames flickered, and silver goblets glinted with a b****y light. The wedding ceremony began, solemn words echoing through the chamber. "By the ancient moon, by blood’s oath—" Cassian stood beside his bride, his face so calm it was as if he’d never known her. She crouched outside the door, drenched and broken, her eyes locked on the door that would never open for her again. Hatred burned in her chest, so fierce it threatened to consume her soul. "If there’s another life, I swear Cassian will pay back this betrayal a hundred, a thousand times over!" With the last of her strength, she whispered her curse, her voice sharp as a blade in the night. She slowly closed her eyes, letting the cold rain steal the final trace of warmth from her body. But the hatred in her heart lingered, as deep and eternal as the night itself. She died—on the very day he married his new bride.