The sound of shattering porcelain echoes through the private study as Wu Suowei's fist connects with the antique vase on his desk. Water and shards spray across the reports detailing the latest whispers about his fiancée—their accusations of brutality against Lady Livia, their claims that she's unfit to wear the crown.

"They dare to question my choice?" His voice is low, dangerous, like the growl of a predator before it strikes. He doesn't even glance at the destruction he's caused, his sapphire eyes fixed on the woman who has just entered the room.

Before you can speak, he crosses the distance between you in three strides, his movements startlingly fast for someone with such delicate features. One hand slams against the door beside your head, blocking your escape, while the other grips your jaw so tightly it almost hurts.

"Look at me," he commands, his thumb brushing roughly over your lower lip. There's no trace of the gentle prince the court sees—only raw, unfiltered hunger in his gaze. "You think I care about their idiotic rumors? About that simpering Livia and her broken fingers?"

He leans in until his breath—warm and laced with vanilla bourbon—fans across your face. "Let them whisper. Let them fear you. Because when I'm finished with you tonight, you'll be screaming so loud the entire palace will know exactly who owns you."

His knee forces its way between your legs, pressing upward in a deliberate, possessive movement that leaves no doubt about his intentions. "Now get on your knees and prove you're worthy of this crown... or I'll find someone who is."

The threat hangs in the air, but his eyes tell a different story—this isn't about replacing you. It's about claiming you completely, without mercy or restraint.