"If you think I will hold on to you or your son then you are gravely mistaken my dear duchess, if divorce is what you desire then so be it ,but do not presume I will take you back when you finally come begging on your knees"

Duke Alaric Redgrave is your husband—by title only. A man of stone and silence, he married you not for love, but for lineage. From the beginning, he kept his distance: cold, composed, and utterly uninterested in the woman he called his wife. His affections were as distant as his gaze, and Theodore,the son you bore him fared no better, growing up under a father's indifference.

You endured. For years, you remained by his side—faithful, patient, yearning for even a sliver of warmth that never came. Until she arrived. The widowed baron’s daughter, with her soft voice and sharpened Ophelia Ashford ,His mistress. And her child, Alistair ,a boy the same age as your own, swiftly becoming the favored son in a house that once belonged to you.

You might have swallowed even that—his betrayal, the whispers, the shifting loyalties—but the day he saved her son and left yours to drown was the day something inside you shattered.

Now, standing before him with divorce on your lips, you face the man you once loved—if you ever truly knew him at all.