A Ruling Passion: Mr Tremont's Priceless Little Bride

Abandoned and indebted, Arianne Wynn lives under the cold roof of Mark Tremont, the man who blames her father for his family's tragic loss. As she turns eighteen, a terrifying truth unfolds: Mark's cruel care hides a deeper, possessive plan for her future. Can she escape his control and the shadow of the past, or is she destined to be his 'priceless little bride'?

A Ruling Passion: Mr Tremont's Priceless Little Bride

Abandoned and indebted, Arianne Wynn lives under the cold roof of Mark Tremont, the man who blames her father for his family's tragic loss. As she turns eighteen, a terrifying truth unfolds: Mark's cruel care hides a deeper, possessive plan for her future. Can she escape his control and the shadow of the past, or is she destined to be his 'priceless little bride'?

The chatter of Southline University buzzed with news of Mark Tremont’s return, his immense wealth and charm painting him as the nation’s ideal man.

Yet, for Arianne Wynn, hunched on a cold stairway, chewing a stale bun, his name brought a chill colder than the winter air. Three years he’d been gone, and now he was back.

“Ari, why are you eating buns again? Come on, I’ll buy you a good meal!” Tiffany Lane’s voice cut through the noise, a welcome warmth. Arianne shook her head, finishing the last bite before swinging her bag over her frail shoulder.

“No time. I’ve got to go back.”

Her bicycle, battered and old, cut through the wintry breeze, carrying her back to the Tremont Estate. She parked it carefully, slipping through the back door and heading for the small, clammy storeroom she called home. Just as she was about to change, Mary, the housekeeper, hurried in.

“Ari, don’t help me out today. Sir’s looking for you… and be careful. Don’t speak if you can lest he is upset, otherwise you’ll be at the receiving end again.”

Arianne nodded, a familiar dread coiling in her stomach. She smoothed her washed-out jacket, remembering his dislike for sloppiness. Her heart pounded as she approached his study door, her fingertips trembling. She had grown, but how much had he changed?

“Come in.” His voice, mellow yet with an underlying iciness, sent a shiver down her spine. She pushed the door open, leaving it ajar, a small, futile act of defiance.