After twenty months of being in Darkstar, one thing was crystal clear, Sigewuf would never value her. Never love her.
"Do your job! I need an heir" he'd screamed at her before storming out that morning
yeah, it was her job, after all that had been the reason for the contract.
And now, a text message from him. Was this something good? Something to be excited about?
Camille stared at her reflection in the mirror, she didn't feel like going out. But Sigewuf had sent the text.
"District gala tonight. 6pm sharp." Camille stared at the plain text, emotionless and business-like.
This wasn't a marriage—it was a job she'd been hired for. A bad deal that wasn't going as planned. Alpha Loeka had not failed to remind her of how useless she was. Rosalind had never called or checked up on her.
