Reborn: Marrying The Cold Disabled Marquis

Chapter 3

Word Count: 654 | Released on: 17/06/2026

ight fell. Her husband, Lord

edding ceremony, sending his younger cousi

, gossiping about how insignificant Gabriella mu

ured the same humiliation, becoming

d, a man of cold dispo

raphina out, he never remarried, remai

his old wounds relapsed, le

aid, Eliza, to have the kitchens prepare a war

eaked open. A gust of cold night air swept in, carr

he remembered from his brief appearances at court, dressed

old and detached, like a general inspecting new artillery.

, but she maintained a serene expression. She had

brushing coldly against her cheek a

. His gaze was

Or I suppose it is Lady Lucas now. There are certa

ilent, her hands fol

y three adopted sons." He paused, letting the harsh honesty sink in. "This marriage is nothing more than that.

f ice, methodically dissectin

ered-a flawless imitation o

im a brief glimpse of disappointment in her eyes before masking it away. "I understand, my lord," she said, her

llow me to fulfill my duties to the children. To care for them as if they were my own." She pressed her advantage, her tone filled with t

chink in his armor. His so

, searching for an

found

o knew her place and offe

eld her bre

tween them, thick wi

en relaxed. Finally, the rigid line of

said stiffly. A

to leave for the ad

cold brass doorknob, Gabriell

. Please

Chapter End

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Reborn: Marrying The Cold Disabled Marquis

White P History

“In our past life, I was chosen for the royal court, ascending to the throne as Queen, only to discover I was merely a shield for the King's true love, eventually dying by a poisoned chalice. Meanwhile, my half-sister married the powerful Marquis of Blackwood. But when he was crippled in an accident, she vented her bitter regret by abusing his adopted sons, ultimately being cast out and becoming the laughingstock of high society. When we both opened our eyes and returned to the morning our fates were decided, my sister lunged forward and desperately snatched the royal selection brooch from my hands. "The supreme glory of the court belongs to me this time!" she sneered. I lowered my head to hide a cold smile. Go ahead, sister. Take that golden death warrant. Without hesitation, I picked up the remaining marriage proposal and chose Lord Dylan Lucas, the ruthless and fearsome Marquis of the North. On our wedding night, my new husband looked at me with eyes like winter frost. "I will not offer you my affection, my companionship, or my bed," he declared coldly. "You are merely here to be a nominal mother to my three adopted sons." "I understand, my lord," I replied meekly, secretly thrilled. A loveless marriage with wealth, power, and adorable children? It was the perfect retirement plan for a woman who had barely survived a palace bloodbath. I played my part perfectly. I used my hidden medical skills to heal his frail youngest son, effortlessly outmaneuvered his hostile relatives, and brought life back to his gloomy estate. I asked for nothing but peace. But I miscalculated one thing. The "cold and ruthless" Marquis wasn't supposed to watch me from the shadows with darkening, possessive eyes. He wasn't supposed to investigate my past. And he certainly wasn't supposed to shatter his own rules. "You've conquered my household and my sons, Gabriella," he whispered one night, cornering me in the study, his stormy grey eyes pinning me in place. "Tell me... when do you plan to conquer me?"”