Reborn: Marrying The Cold Disabled Marquis

Chapter 6

Word Count: 630 | Released on: 17/06/2026

the curtains. Dylan had not slept another win

Her grip loosened, and with a soft sigh she rolled a

as f

udding. He watched her for another moment-her back rising and falling in deep sleep-befo

red the suite with a soft knoc

orientation. She sat up, stretching,

the bed to draw the curtains and straighten the l

hite sheet. There, stark against the fine linen, was a

relieved smile. "Oh, my la

is was proof. The marriage had been consumma

ers. It was crushed poppy petal, concealed in a tiny vial and applied i

ns, knowing glances in the corridors. The cold Lord Dylan, it seemed, was not so col

tern head housekeeper, to the true matriarch:

She listened to Mrs. Gable's report, her gnarled fingers snipping a withered leaf from a prized rose bush.

nd walls of duty and grief. He would not, could not, have succumbed to

d up a delicate porcelain cup of tea. "T

my l

She didn't care about the truth. She cared about the result. She needed a mistress who could manage her brooding grandson, tame his w

hens that the new Lady Lucas requires nourishin

icial, undeniable en

fectly. "At once, my lady

ilt on a drop of flower

ella stood before the doors to the family dining room. She knew dealing with the se

d her features into a serene sm

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?"”