pte

-

or's

nsion-an edifice of marble and might, where every column

umstance sat in tense silence: on

t bride and a shadowed heir would stir

-

a's

nce soft ivory-felt like armor too tight, its weight magnified by every breath. I followed R

, or the stern portraits lining the walls. This was a world built f

e steps, a royal

-

y's R

e, stood motionless-her question su

n... who

eply was l

y wi

ractured

ungest siste

ing? And we-his own siste

her hands t

y drama series! Who is sh

ed forward, gaze as

Reyhan Pratama, have you los

, each glance a whisper of accusation and curiosity. My fing

hand, silenc

inside. She'

red a gen

Let me show yo

her arm th

sister-in-law. Hope you br

corridors of silk rugs and ancestral rel

gri

nce inside, there'

ped thea

art of the Pratama fort

hered me in and left, laug

-

a's

red: dark mahogany furniture, deep navy drapes, a king-sized bed made exactly

essing against my skin. My brea

company. My veil slipped from my face, revealin

ooled on the floor, and for a moment I closed my eyes

-

n's E

and, sleeves rolled up. He paused when he

d to the closet, as though unwilling to dist

ight. My heart ached with q

-

or's

on's grandeur faded. A silent bride and a reluctant groom stood on

ed. Victor Arman's shadow moved throu

e truce of silen

-