The man who strode before the imposing gates of the Rothschild estate cut a distinctly imposing figure. He lood above the gathered servants and guards, and his sheer presence exuded a sense of absolute dominance that emanated from every action he took.
As this towering figure moved across the grounds of the estate and then stood in front of the beautiful carriage which will be used to take Vivianne Rothschild, even the most experienced guards of the Rothschild estate found themselves being intimidated, their eyes downcast.
However, as Vivianne looked at this man, a calm grin appeared on her face. She recognised Maxim Renhardt, the most devoted knight of Grand Duke Borgia, from her past.
In her past life, where she was the emperor’s mate, he had once helped her escape the emperor’s clutches in a desperate attempt, and his compassion and loyalty stood in sharp contrast to the brutality she had endured at the hands of her forr captor.
Even when she had been a fugitive in his custody, Maxim had never once used his authority as an alpha to injure or control her. And he, being a mated alpha, never gives any reaction to Vivianne’s unique condition. Maxim had never touched her and remained respectful to her until the end, when he died at the hands of the emperor’s n from an unfair action.
Vivianne rembered Maxim as a ray of hope in the dark, even if the emperor’s forces had eventually found her and tortured her to an unimaginable degree, prompting her to commit suicide in a last desperate act.
She felt an unspoken assurance settle in her as she watched this powerful person standing in front of the Rothschild mansion and stating his purpose. Because she secretly understood that this man was a far superior alpha than the despot who had so brutally imprisoned her.
The sun cast a golden hue over the manicured gardens, but for Liselotte, the brilliance of the day was overshadowed by the looming presence of the Grand Duke. As she stood at the entrance, her gaze fell upon the figure standing in front of all of them, a mix of disdain and disgust twisting her features.
The man before her was a titan, towering above the assembled guests and servants; his very presence was such a disturbing presence with all of his looks and all the scars. Liselotte could hardly stifle the chuckle that escaped her lips, a sound laced with scorn.
"You’re going to have to deal with that ugly troll for the rest of your life," she whispered, her voice barely concealing her contempt. Yet, the sharp ears of Roxanne, the real Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Borgia, caught Liselotte’s words clearly.
Vivianne, standing beside her stepsister, felt a surge of indignation. "Mind your manners, Liselotte Rothschild. He’s my betrothed, and you know nothing of him," she said, her tone firm as she confronted her sister’s venomous remarks. Deep down, Vivianne understood that this was one of the Grand Duke’s tests—a subtle examination of her loyalty and character.
The Grand Duke, fad for his cold and calculating deanour, was also known for his deep loyalty to his people. Vivianne’s heart raced at the thought of how the Grand Duke might view her family’s behaviour. A mate who could not respect his rank or his trusted knight would hardly be fitting for soone of his stature.
"Suit yourself," Liselotte shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’re the one who’s going to endure that ugly troll, not ."
Vivianne’s resolve hardened. "You’re not yet an empress, Liselotte. Mind your manners, or I can punish you for saying such foolish things." With a swift motion, she stepped on Liselotte’s foot, a reprimand masked in sisterly affection.
Liselotte’s eyes flared with outrage, ready to retaliate, but Genevieve’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "If you don’t shut up, Lise, I’ll deal with you after this." Her tone was sharp, a clear warning that left no room for defiance.
Inside the carriage, Roxanne listened intently, a smile playing on her lips. "She’s really beautiful," she murmured, her gaze lingering on Vivianne’s graceful form, clad in an exquisite gown that shimred like the morning dew.
"And proper too, fortunately. Marvellous," Red remarked, his amusent evident as he observed the conversation between the two of the young won unravelling before him.
All of the residents of the Grand Duchy are people of mixed race; they have better senses than ordinary humans in the Rothschild estate. With their heightened senses, Roxanne and Red could hear every word, each word laced with the intensity of unspoken emotions.
"I am here to fulfil the promise between our families, for Lady Vivianne Rothschild," Maxim declared, his voice steady and commanding. He offered no additional introduction, rely stating his allegiance to the Grand Duchy of Borgia—a statent that carried with it the weight of expectation and the promise of what was to co.
Liselotte’s lips curled into a malicious grin as she regarded the towering figure before them, her chuckle dripping with contempt. The man’s imposing presence and chiselled features, so at odds with the delicate nobility of the Rothschild family, clearly struck her as an ugly blight upon their estate.
In front of her, Valdemar Rothschild, the current count, struggled to maintain his composure in the face of such an overwhelming presence, feeling really intimidated and also disgusted by the man’s face.
Clearing his throat, he summoned his most diplomatic tone. "Greetings to the Grand Duke of Borgia. I’m Valdemar Rothschild, the current count of Rothschild County."
But to Valdemar’s surprise, the man swiftly retreated, his movents smooth and purposeful. Maxim already heard the order to retreat from the Grand Duke. "I’m not the Grand Duke," he stated simply, his words cutting through the tense silence.
In the next mont, the carriage door flew open, and a figure erged, Red coming out hurriedly, quickly bowing before the Grand Duke herself. "Roxanne de Borgia, the Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy Borgia," she announced, her voice firm and unwavering. T
The air crackled with a palpable sense of anticipation as the Rothschilds realised the true nature of their guest – a woman of imnse power and influence, possessing a beauty that was both alluring and intimidating.
A female, coming out from the carriage. Wearing an attire that exudes an air of dark elegance and mystery, the base of the ensemble is a form-fitting, black leather jumpsuit that clings to her lithe fra, accentuating her curves. The high collar and sleek silhouette lend an air of severity and authority to her appearance.
Over this, she wears an exquisitely tailored coat of ivory brocade, the intricate floral pattern embroidered in shimring black thread. The coat’s long, sweeping lines and dramatic flared cuffs give it an almost regal, aristocratic presence.
The Grand Duke’s figure is sculpted to perfection, lean but toned muscle evident in every graceful movent. Her beauty transcended the mortal realm, ethereal and otherworldly.
Flawless porcelain skin glowed with an almost luminescent quality, unmarred by any blemish or imperfection. High, sharply defined cheekbones accentuated her strong, regal features, frad by a cascade of lush, raven-black hair that fell in glossy waves down her back.
But it was the Grand Duke’s eyes that were the most captivating – a srising shade of deep, striking crimson red that seed to gleam with an otherworldly brilliance. Long, dark lashes frad those captivating orbs, adding an air of mystery and depth to her elegantly beautiful face.
As the Grand Duke stood before the Rothschilds, Vivianne felt her heart skip a beat, a reaction she had never experienced, not even in her past life or when she had encountered the emperor. The very sight of the Grand Duke’s crimson red eyes and the sheer power radiating from her presence left Vivianne breathless.
Liselotte’s earlier smug expression had completely faltered, replaced by a growing unease as she found herself enthralled by the alpha before her. Valdemar, too, felt the weight of the Grand Duke’s commanding presence, his previous confidence crumbling in the face of this esteed, otherworldly visitor.
srised by the beauty and palpable power emanating from the Grand Duke, the Rothschilds remained silent, utterly enraptured. Even Liselotte, her oga instincts stirring, felt an overwhelming urge to submit to the alpha’s dominance.
Vivianne swiftly approached, her heart racing as she returned the introduction with a graceful bow. "Vivianne de Rothschild, your grace," she declared, her voice steady despite the tempest of emotions swirling within her.
As she straightened, the Grand Duke’s deep, husky voice enveloped her like a warm embrace. "Soon, you’ll be Vivianne de Borgia." The words flowed with a magnetic allure, almost causing Vivianne to lose her footing.
"Yes, your grace," she managed to reply, her voice barely above a whisper.
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