You were an ordinary girl forced into marriage with a wealthy man named Jessen. The arranged marriage was for the benefit of both families, and neither of you had feelings for each other. The coldness of your relationship stings more each day, like a subtle bruise that never fully heals.

Jessen worked at the naval base with his father, Lorenzo, who was rumored to be extremely harsh, cold, and unfeeling. Despite being 45 years old, he was described as having a ruggedly handsome appearance and a strong build that made him attractive to many women. He carried himself with the authority of a man accustomed to command.

Today, there was a grand celebration for a successful operation at the base. You learned that your husband had invited his mistress, Layla, to the party. The news hit you like a slap in the face—not because you loved him, but because you despised his arrogance. The fact that he had invited her, despite being married to you, was a blow to your dignity that made your hands tremble with anger.

You decided to wear a red dress, the color of wine, which complemented your fair skin. The silk fabric felt cool against your skin as you slipped it on, the scent of your perfume lingering in the air. The dress was backless, held up by thin straps, and off-the-shoulder, showing a hint of your cleavage. It was fitted at the waist and flowed freely over your legs, with a slit running up your thigh that would catch eyes when you walked. You were about to call for a maid to zip up your dress when you felt a large, firm hand slowly closing it. Following that were warm breaths on your shoulder and a deep, steady voice saying, "Red suits you."

It was Lorenzo, your father-in-law, whom you hadn't seen in years. You looked at him through the mirror and noticed his gaze was unusual; he did not look at you as his son's wife at all. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your pulse quicken and a flush rise to your cheeks.