Chapter 1

My husband, William Shaw, ruined my face. He forced me into the burning coals with his own hands.

In that moment, I could hear the crackling sound of my skin roasting.

Pain. It hurt like hell.

The pain was so overwhelming that I couldn't scream. My body fought back on instinct.

But William's hand gripped the back of my neck, like I was a lamb to the slaughter, and shoved my whole face into the glowing coals.

I lost track of time. Seconds, or maybe a lifetime.

Maids were shrieking and sobbing around me. Someone screamed for the doctor. Then William's voice cut through the noise. "Save her. Spare no expense. Her face... it has to survive."

His voice was shaky, urgent, and there was a trace of heartache.

I lay collapsed on the floor, blood and bits of flesh still dripping from my ruined face.

I wanted to laugh, but the sound wouldn't come.

I was carried back to my chamber.

Every single physician from the Imperial Medical Bureau showed up. They crowded around me, carefully peeling away the bandages that had fused with my bloody skin, then gently applying all sorts of precious ointments.

I lay there, completely still.

It wasn't that I didn't want to move. It was that I couldn't. The pain was so agonizing that I didn't have the strength to move a single finger.

But my ears were still working.

I heard William through the folding doors, his voice low and seething with anger. "What happened? How did Lady Yvette end up falling right into the charcoal brazier? Are you all useless or what?"

The maids stood frozen, staring at their shoes in panic, but not a single one dared to speak.

Because they'd all seen it.

"It wasn't me. I didn't fall. William did this. He shoved my face into those coals.

But none of them dared to speak up.

I couldn't say a thing either.

I lay there, listening to William tear into the staff. He fired three maids for "gross negligence," had security escort them out, and blacklisted them from ever working in the city again.

What a prince.

I closed my eyes, letting my tears mingle with the ointment as they seeped into my ears, powerless to stop them.

The ointment was laced with something to calm me, and I slipped into a restless, foggy sleep.

But I had no idea that the real nightmare was only beginning.

Trapped between the bone-deep burning pain and the haze of the medicine, I drifted in and out of consciousness, the agony on my cheek never letting up.

In that muddled state, I overheard William speaking with his trusted royal physician outside the folding doors.

The physician said, "Your Grace, wasn't the plan to use medicine so that Lady Yvette would only suffer temporary disfigurement and keep herself out of sight?

"The fire has burned her down to the muscle and bone. Even if she heals, she will be left with hideous scars for the rest of her life."

His voice was full of fear and confusion.

William was silent for a moment.

Then I heard his voice. Gone was his usual warmth and gentleness, replaced by cold, unyielding resolve.

He said, "Letting her keep the title of princess and live quietly for these three years is already the most I can do for her, and for the late General Sterling.

"What Chloe needs is a shadow, someone who will never be compared to her, never threaten her place as the top beauty or the future princess. This is what Yvette owes Chloe."

Chloe Moore was my cousin, the one everyone called Belmere's Brightest Lady. She was also the irreplaceable mark on William's heart.

So that was how it was.

Three years ago, William came to the General Manor to propose. He said he admired my spirit, that he had fallen for me at first sight. I believed him and married him, thinking I was the luckiest woman in the world.

For three years, I ran the Prince Mansion with all my heart.

William treated me gently and tenderly, never raising his voice, never taking a concubine. I thought this was what true love between husband and wife looked like, that this was what a peaceful life was supposed to be.

It turned out it was all because of my face, one that bore a striking resemblance to Chloe's.

But I was younger and more vibrant than Chloe. I had trained in combat and swordsmanship with my father, so I had a slender, graceful figure and bright, lively eyes. While Chloe was cold and reserved, always putting on airs as Belmere's greatest beauty.

That made me the perfect imitation.

That was why I deserved to die.

No, I couldn't die. I just couldn't keep this face any longer.

The royal physician sighed, his voice tinged with regret. "Miss Moore is proud and haughty. She cannot bear to be overshadowed by anyone. Lady Yvette's face is simply too similar, and in some ways, even more striking.

"With her around, Miss Moore will never escape comparisons and gossip, even after she marries into the family."

William stayed silent for a long time.

When he spoke again, his tone was chillingly calm. "For Chloe's peace of mind and safety, we must eliminate all future risks. Exchanging Yvette's beauty for a lifetime of security in the Prince Mansion is already merciful."

"Furthermore," William went on, as if trying to convince himself as much as stating a fact, "a woman who lives by her looks will not endure for long.

"Without that face, Yvette may learn to tame her temperament, know her place, and depend on me to live. This might well be for her own good.

"It is better than letting her grow arrogant from favor, bringing about greater disaster one day and dragging the last remaining honor of the Sterling family down with her."

I lay on the bed, shaking all over.

The searing pain on my face couldn't compare to the icy numbness flooding my soul.

I remembered three years ago when my father fell on the battlefield, and my mother passed away soon afterward. Alone in the vast General Manor, I was lost and had no idea where to turn.

Then William came to me, took my hand, and said, "Yvette, don't be afraid. From now on, I'll take care of you."

I believed him.

I gave him my heart.

Now, he was the one who shoved my face into the burning coals.

The royal physician said, "Your Grace, Lady Yvette has always loved you deeply. These three years, she has managed the Prince Mansion with all her heart. Do you truly..."

"Love?" William let out a low, mocking laugh.

His laughter was laced with bitterness and mockery. I couldn't tell if it was meant for me or for himself.

He continued, "If it weren't for her face and the promise I made to General Sterling, why would I have wasted three years, leaving Chloe waiting outside, suffering all that hardship?

"I owe Chloe more than I could ever repay in this lifetime. Letting Yvette keep the title of princess for three years is already Chloe's remarkable restraint and magnanimity. Yvette should know her place."

I bit down hard, swallowing back the scream and the wave of despair that almost escaped my lips.

The strong, metallic taste of blood overwhelmed my mouth.

I had no idea how much time had passed.

William came to my bedside.

He carefully avoided my bandaged cheek and gently took my cold hand. His voice held a tenderness I had never heard before, as if the monster who had tormented me moments ago was someone else entirely.

He said, "Yvette, don't be afraid. The royal physicians said they'll do everything possible. Even if your beauty is lost, you'll still be my wife. From now on, I'll protect you. I promise, you'll never suffer another hurt as long as I'm here."

He lowered his head and gently kissed my uninjured fingertips, treating me as if I were a fragile treasure that could break at any moment.

I kept my eyes closed, unmoving, letting him hold my hand.

In my mind, I counted his heartbeats.

Did he have a heart?

"Yvette?" he asked gently. "Are you awake?"

I didn't answer.

He sighed, carefully placed my hand back beneath the blanket, made sure I was covered, and then rose to leave.

His footsteps slowly receded into the distance.

At last, I opened my eyes.

Tears slipped quietly down my face, seeping into the bandages and making the wounds burn.

But I couldn't feel it anymore.

I stared at the canopy above, replaying those words over and over in my head. "Chloe needs. She cannot bear to be overshadowed by anyone. Chloe's remarkable restraint and magnanimity."

It was all for Chloe. She had been in mourning for three years and was about to return to Belmere.

The Belmere's Brightest Lady, the one whom William cherished so deeply that he was willing to let me serve as her stand-in for three years while waiting for her.

And my face, my life, three years of devotion, three years of pouring my heart out for William—what did it all amount to? Just "knowing my place," "the most he could do," and his so-called "mercy."

Mercy. Such a lovely word.

I was Yvette Sterling, a general's daughter. My father died on the battlefield, and my mother followed him to the grave. I married into the Prince Mansion alone, managed the household for three years, and waited for William for three years.

And what was my reward? His so-called "mercy."

Was that the same "mercy" when he pressed my face into the burning coals with his own hands?

I didn't know.

All I knew was that the bone-deep burning on my face would never let me forget, for the rest of my life.