Chapter 1
The Capital. The sky was overcast. Seven sleek limousine wedding cars pulled into West Manor, their glossy surfaces reflecting the gloom above. “Eleanor West, just make sure to marry into the Frost family, and I promise Montgomery and I will be there to support you!” Isabella Lark, Eleanor's half-sister, said with a tone that masked her disdain. Eleanor’s gaze fell on her sister, her expression betraying an intensity that felt like a knifing pain. Isabella had managed to capture the affection of her mysterious friend, Henry Montgomery, and now threatened Eleanor with her younger brother's health. The Frost family... Rumor had it that Sebastian Frost, the groom-to-be, was ugly, frail, and overly peculiar. "You promised me! As long as I marry him, Young David will continue to receive his treatment." Eleanor thought of the cold, unhelpful face of Dr. Hale, the chief physician, but her brother's health was her only priority. Oliver Dawn was Eleanor's full-blooded younger brother, and only six months prior, he was diagnosed with leukemia. The mounting chemotherapy costs were far beyond what Eleanor could manage alone. If she didn’t marry in place of Mira Bell, Oliver would soon become nothing more than a cold body lying in a hospital bed. "I understand!" Mira said impatiently, shoving Eleanor toward the car. The thought of Eleanor married to that monstrous man sent exhilaration coursing through her. "I’m not the needy type, you know. Stop with the delays; the wedding car is waiting. Offend the Frosts, and don’t blame us if Oliver's treatment goes south." Eleanor cast one last resentful look at West Manor, her large, doe-like eyes filled with disappointment and derision. She shouldn’t have agreed to take Young David back to this place just ten days ago. This wasn’t home for them. With a resigned sigh, she lifted the hem of her wedding gown and climbed into the limousine. … St. Alden’s Church, the most renowned wedding venue in the Capital, had been booked exclusively by the Frost family for this day. But the number of attendees was almost negligible. Eleanor stepped out of the car, and from a distance, ten pairs of eyes scrutinized her with a mix of skepticism and ridicule, more than a few filled with blatant contempt. They looked at her as if she were a spectacle—an absurd joke. A joke about the man she'd be marrying from the Frost family, known for its notorious reputation. “Excuse me... where’s the groom?” Eleanor asked the gloomy-looking Julian Grey, the Frost family's unceremonious spokesperson, as he stood stoically near the entrance. “Sebastian Frost is unwell today and won't be seeing anyone,” Julian replied with a robotic expression, devoid of any warmth. “What about the wedding?” Eleanor asked, worry gnawing at her. “The ceremony will be presided over by Lord Frost himself.” Alone to conduct the ceremony? Was this the Frost family deliberately putting her through this humiliation? The church felt alien, with its lovely decor and all, and the crowd watching her only served to amplify her embarrassment. The gaze of strangers, mixed with malicious intent, felt like a flood sweeping Eleanor away. She wanted to escape, but she had no other choice. For Oliver, Eleanor West steeled her heart and began to walk towards the altar where the enigmatic Sebastian stood. Meanwhile, in a luxurious VIP room at The Endless Inn... In the top-tier suite, lavishly decorated, two stunningly beautiful women sat across from each other. Unlike the raucous commotion outside, the ambiance here was serene, filled with live music from the band playing in the corner. A massive screen on the wall displayed the Frost wedding in progress. “Lady Belinda, aren’t you curious about your new in-laws? Look at them on the screen. The slim lady with the ants’ waist and golden locks, should be tough to deal with!” said Eleanor’s friend, sarcastically. Sitting solitary in a grand chair, Sebastian Frost appeared as cold and distant as a frigid winter morning, his eyes pale and uninviting, his presence intimidating. Underneath the shadows, his breathtakingly handsome features were tinged with mystery, drawing attention akin to a storm lurking on the horizon.
Chapter 2
The sharp lines of a well-defined jaw, slightly parted lips that radiated a mysterious allure, and a nose that spoke of confidence – this was Sebastian Frost, a man with striking features that could drive anyone, even the most composed, to madness. His gaze settled on the elegant silhouette of a young model strutting down the runway, her movements graceful and regal, reminiscent of a goddess in the spotlight. "Not at all!" Frederick Knight quickly interjected, waving his hand dismissively. After all, she was technically his sister-in-law. Sebastian tipped his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly as he caught a glimpse of the screen. The bride stood opposite the enigmatic Lord Niall, her figure wishing to be admired. The floral wedding gown designed by his aunt prominently highlighted every curve, accentuating her delicate build and slender arms, each exposed to the warm air that flowed through the venue. Just a glance at her back was enough to ignite the interest of many in attendance. "What a show-off!" Sebastian commented, the disdain evident in his tone. "Why marry her if you're not interested?" Frederick queried innocently, finding pleasure in the grapes served by the catering staff. "What’s the deal? You’ve got to be kidding." "Disregarding her history, Dr. Hale's daughter is still that foolish nephew of yours’ ex-girlfriend, Catherine Fairchild. You're thinking of picking up someone someone's already discarded? You do realize that House Frost is going to have to hear about this from the same people who are now mocking you?" Sebastian Frost, although meant to be at the forefront of House Frost, had been stripped of his power after a tragic incident a decade ago. It left him frail and vulnerable both physically and socially, but he had cultivated his own power during that time. In under ten years, Raven Keep Enterprises had skyrocketed to within the top ranks of global corporations, dominating not just in legitimate arenas but also thriving in the shadows. Rumors flew about his secretive executive team; many whispered about the mesmerizing yet intimidating figure behind the curtain, who was both dashing and charismatic yet shrouded in mystery. No one would dare think that he was the supposed antonym of the handsome and refined man they imagined him to be. Meanwhile, Frederick Knight found himself on the entertainment side of Raven Keep Enterprises, one that allowed him to coast through life without a care, despite its turbulent undercurrents. "Just a pretty face," Sebastian replied curtly about his supposed bride. His compliance to marry was merely to placate his grandmother, Lady Edith Frost, who insisted he find somebody. With no significant other around, she felt inclined to play matchmaker. What frustrated Sebastian the most was that Lady Edith requested he achieve something utterly absurd—that he should plan to conceive a child with her even before stepping into marriage or else face divorce. A pretty face was something he could tolerate, but a child? Absolutely not! Frederick shot a knowing glance at the most beautiful woman in the room, before directing his attention to Sebastian. As if on cue, the stunning figure rose from her seat and began moving toward Sebastian, unaware of how commanding and intense the man before her appeared. Not knowing how to address him, she cleared her throat and called out tentatively, “Valo—" "Get lost!" Sebastian snapped before she could finish her approach, his deep voice laced with authority sending her backtracking in fear. The woman faltered, her legs betraying her as she flinched and crumpled to the floor, uncertainty crowding her every thought. She feared that should she take another step closer, he'd haul her away without a second thought. "Brandon, you need to remember your place. Do you think everyone else has the same excess of charm toward women like you? Don't you fear the sickness that might come from your careless pursuits?" The mysterious man raised an eyebrow, his sharp blue eyes hidden behind shadows yet still shimmering with judicious calm, distinct from Sebastian's inherent coolness and Frederick's wildness—exuding a strength wrapped in grace. "DeLancey, you think it’s right for you to prattle on from your pedestal of arrogance, telling others how to behave?" Frederick fired back, exchanging barbs with his old friend, lively banter echoing across the room. Sebastian usually tuned out such antics, the type of dialogue he’d seen play out far too many times, oblivious to how loudly layers of tension crackled in the air.
Chapter 3
The wedding concluded, and Mr. Sebastian Frost was escorted to the Grand Hall in a luxury car, adorned for the occasion. The Grand Hall was a hallmark of Old World architecture, standing majestically on the highest peak of Capital Hill, a glittering jewel of elegance amid the city's finest properties. As the car approached the estate, several servants stood at attention, providing courteous bows as he passed. Inside, the sprawling hallways of the estate reflected the grandeur of its design. The main hall connected to an impressive side chamber, leading to a stunning lake view that perfectly framed the majestic backdrop of Lancelot Mountain. Beyond that lay a pristine golf course, a quaint paddock for leisure riding, and various recreational facilities. Upon arrival, Mr. Frost couldn't help but compare his current surroundings to the House of Montgomery, realizing it fell woefully short. Its palatial grandeur paled in comparison to that of the Montgomery family. “Welcome, Mr. Frost!” A group of about ten impeccably dressed attendants greeted him in unison, their voices ringing out with an eerie synchronization, as if rehearsed. “Please, make yourself at home. I’m Lord Linwood, the head servant here,” said a man stepping forward, who was supported by nods from the rest. Their gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding eye contact. “Thank you,” Mr. Frost replied, feeling thoroughly uneasy. The attendants' polite demeanor belied an unmistakable chill—they neither respected nor acknowledged his authority. To his dismay, Mr. Frost found that Lady Winifred, the bride, had been assigned to the guest room instead of the Master’s quarters. It was clear: Mr. Frost had little regard for his new wife. “Lord Linwood, may I ask where Lady Winifred is?” Mr. Frost inquired, glancing around the Grand Hall for any sign of her. “She stepped out, sir,” came the dry reply. “...” Wasn’t the groom, who was supposedly too weak to attend the wedding, conveniently out on a whim? This felt like a deliberate insult aimed at Winifred. “Lord Linwood, could you please inform me when Lady Winifred returns?” Mr. Frost asked, still holding on to some vestige of civility. Without a hint of annoyance, Lord Linwood remarked, “Of course,” though a note of admiration flickered in his eyes at Mr. Frost’s defiance. Yet the following day, Mr. Frost woke to find his bride absent. Not only did the groom miss the wedding night, but the bride remained alone in a room adorned for their nuptials while he occupied the chambers far from her side. No wonder Lady Mira Bell had gone through great lengths to have her play the role of bride. What a marriage this turned out to be… Mr. Frost chuckled aloud, his laughter heavy with the taste of bitter irony. It felt like living in a gilded cage. ... By the time Mr. Frost returned to the estate, it was already the second day since Lady Winifred’s arrival. He strolled into the bright, inviting Grand Hall clad in a lavish black silk shirt paired with matching pants, his presence radiating a lazy, regal charm. His light brown eyes glinted with a mix of aloofness and an untameable wildness, strikingly captivating. Upon entering, his eyes fell on the conspicuously plastered double “happiness” symbol along the hall’s walls, a sight that stung his senses. “Take that down,” he muttered under his breath. Lord Linwood promptly collected Mr. Frost's jacket, glancing at two handmaidens nearby with a knowing look. In a swift motion, they tore down every trace and expression of celebration remaining within the hall, the atmosphere of the villa losing its festive spirit entirely. “Where is she?” Mr. Frost inquired coldly, searching the hall for his bride. “She returned to the guest quarters. Lady Winifred requested to see you, sir.” Requesting to see him? Was it to confront him about his absence and humiliation? The thought nipped at his composure. With a sneer, Mr. Frost said dismissively, “Invite her to find me.” Finally, Lady Winifred got the chance she had been waiting for—Mr. Frost’s return. Anxiety coursed through her as she stood at the threshold of the Master’s quarters, unsure of how to face the distant husband who seemed repulsed by her very existence. She knocked softly on the door; silence answered. Waiting a moment, she knocked again, louder this time, but still, no response. Finally, bracing herself, she pushed the door open. Inside, she was taken aback by the sheer opulence of the Master’s quarters. Stretching nearly two hundred square feet, the layout opened into the Grand Hall and led further back into a sprawling bedroom with an oversized bed. Flanking either side were luxurious guest rooms, tastefully furnished in a style reminiscent of aristocratic grandeur, filled with ornate details that blended artistry and craftsmanship seamlessly. The decor, echoing Old World charm, held an air of mystique and elegance, the rich hues of black and gold enveloping the space, producing a lavish yet foreboding ambiance.
Chapter 4
Eleanor West felt an undeniable chill as she stepped into the grand parlor. The atmosphere was heavy with a peculiar blend of elegance and intimidation, leaving her in awe. She hurriedly scanned the room, searching for the man she had come to see. "Mr. Sebastian Frost... is he here?" she asked nervously, her voice barely audible. Though she had circled the plush room desperately looking for him, it was Lady Linwood who had assured her that Mr. Frost was indeed within. With determination, Eleanor approached the ornate embroidered screen that dominated the space, believing it would help ease the tension of their meeting. "Mr. Frost, I—I am Eleanor West," she introduced herself hesitantly, her heart racing. "I know you prefer solitude, so I promise not to be a bother! I just wanted to discuss something—if that's alright." Eleanor was feeling a mix of pressure and excitement as she prepared to bring up her hopes for a return to her studies at Sins International University and a chance to visit her brother. The upcoming modeling competition, "The Elite Model Competition," loomed over her, but all she could muster were the few requests she felt safe voicing. "Mr. Frost, I realize it may seem rude to speak through a screen, but I’ve heard you dislike meeting people. Yet your appearance is but a small part of who you are. Isn't it worth stepping outside and experiencing the world? It might teach you that true ugliness lies within." Just then, Sebastian emerged from the bathhouse, his chiseled figure spilling into view. Eleanor caught sight of him from behind the screen, her breath hitching at the sight of his sculpted physique adorned in a light blue robe, water droplets glistening in his dark hair. His presence was almost otherworldly, and she could hardly comprehend the raw masculinity that radiated from him. "Who are you calling ugly?" His voice was a deep baritone that echoed off the high ceilings, blending with the sophisticated decor of the room, reminiscent of a fine violin's tune. Eleanor gasped, turning her head in shock to find the handsome stranger standing less than two feet from her. He was even younger than her—perhaps only a few years older than her at best—but the confidence and allure he exuded felt foreign yet captivating. He stood shoulder-width apart with that expression—a mix of cold aloofness and playful mischief. Eleanor couldn't shake off how he resembled a divine creation. His dark features were striking, with a perfectly sculpted nose, and eyes that gleamed with a challenge. Even the roguish twist to his lips seemed designed to ensnare her thoughts, threatening her carefully composed demeanor. "Are you trying to get my attention with your naïveté?" Sebastian’s smirk had a hint of scorn layered within the charm, making Eleanor feel foolish for her boldness. “Wait!” she cried, instantly mortified. “I—I didn’t mean it like that!” She stammered an apology to the smirking figure behind the screen. “Mr. Frost, please, that’s not what I meant!” Eleanor turned back, feeling a deep flush in her cheeks as she faced the mesmerizing man again, who leaned lazily against the screen, amusement dancing in his eyes. He was a spectacle of masculinity that she had only glimpsed in magazines before, now right there in front of her, making her flustered and fascinated all at once. For a moment, the air crackled with tension, leaving Eleanor caught between wanting to flee and desperately yearning to stay. She had a feeling that this peculiar encounter might just change her life, even as she stumbled through her words, hoping that Sebastian would eventually let her in—just a little more than a simple meeting through a screen.
Chapter 5
"Please, Aunt Ladyne, don't hurt me! I'm married! My new husband is sickly and not handsome at all, I have no interest in you!" “Ha!” Sebastian Frost let out a sharp, cold laugh, his eyes glinting with icy disdain. He kicked aside an expensive screen, revealing a life-sized mannequin dressed in the latest custom design he had commissioned. Eleanor West stood frozen, her brain struggling to process the sight. A mannequin? And headless?! Sebastian Frost stepped forward, his long fingers pinching Eleanor’s chin, forcing her to meet his chiseled features. Despite her fear, she felt her heart race—the intensity of his gaze was almost suffocating. “Miss, rather than playing the fool, why not level with me? I might look at you with more favor.” “I’m not, I didn’t…!” His light brown eyes were filled with a chilling irony, the handsome lines of his face shadowed by a brooding intensity that felt dangerously seductive. It was hard to believe she was so close to someone like him. She felt caught in his magnetic pull, like a deer in the headlights, breath quickening as anxiety surged through her. “I’m s-so sorry!” Instinctively, she apologized first—afraid if she spoke back, he might choke her. Eleanor had dressed deliberately for her meeting with Sebastian, hoping to make a good impression. Unfortunately, she hadn’t realized how loose her nightgown neckline was, practically falling off as she bent, allowing glimpses of her skin under the dim lights. It was as if she was trying to bait him now. How foolish! “Get out!” He commanded, his tone unyielding. With her heart pounding in her ears, Eleanor hurried out of the room, her steps echoing like a retreat from the battlefield. * Later, in the lower hall, she sought confirmation about the enigmatic Sebastian from a passing servant. To her shock, it indeed was Sebastian Frost. Eleanor felt tears prickling at her eyes. “But they said Sebastian was… ugly and sickly?” “Miss Eleanor, rumors are just that—rumors. The truth is clearer than what people say.” As clear as his chilling demeanor? The word around town about Sebastian Frost being sickly and repugnant was entirely false. It illustrated only his grumpy and strange personality. With a sigh, Eleanor’s spirits sank. She had already made a bad first impression. How could she negotiate with him now? Without his blessing, she could neither leave his estate nor descend from Frost Hill. The household staff would not let her through. She couldn’t even hope to walk down that majestic hill on her own. The next morning, her phone buzzed. Seeing the caller ID, her cheerful expression vanished. “Hey, Dad.” “Eleanor, did you deliver the gifts to Sebastian?” Quentin Gale's stern voice rang through the receiver. “Remember, you have to be obedient at the Frost estate and don’t anger Sebastian Frost.” Obey and don’t annoy Sebastian Frost? Wasn’t that something a parent should tell their child, not the other way around? Quentin was particularly harsh when it came to her marrying off to a stranger. “Eleanor, listen closely! If you don't cooperate with your marriage to that kid, you'll regret it, and I’ll throw you and Olive out!” Just those words shattered any hope Eleanor had for her future with Niall, leaving only disappointment and despair. “I'll make sure to deliver them, Dad.” She suppressed her simmering pain as she spoke, “Please, keep my marriage under wraps with David. I’m worried he won’t be able to handle it.”
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