The Billionaire's Nemesis

TER

bed she was meant to share with Roman on their wedding n

s less than satisfied with you after the ceremony.

with the consummation at the cathedral. She thought she had done everything right. Yet apparen

to be a good and obedient wife

s unacceptable! If you cannot please your

en the bedchamber door opened. Both

eeted smoothly. "Might I have

e. "Of course, of course! I'll leave

ced for more criticism or even punishme

ear my conversation with your f

re is no need to apologize, my lord. I

iana his arm. "Come, I ha

footsteps echoing. They stopped at an ordinary-looking door, and Roman motioned for her t

he rest of the manor. This room, tucked away in a hidden corner, felt more utilitarian than extrava

single oil lamp sitting atop a rickety workbench cluttered with brushes and paint tubes. Rom

murmured, lighting a nearby sconce.

its stared back at Tatiana – noblemen with stern expressions, women adorned in opulent jewelry, landscapes depicting rolling hills an

towards a captivating portrait of a young woman wi

inged with a melancholic note. "She had a spirit

; her curiosity piqued. "Y

ost of a smile playing on his lips.

le scene showcasing the brutal carnage of war, a weathered sailor gazing out at a stormy

subjects with an underlying sadness, a sense of something lost or yearned for. Ye

desert stretching towards a horizon veiled in an unending sandstorm. The sky was a swirling vortex of ochre and rust, mirroring the chaos below. In the

started, her voice

'. It reminds me that life isn't all sunshine and blue skies. There will be storms, there

ther of us envisioned, but it is our reality, nonetheless. We can choose to fight it, to rail against the st

e they were now bound to. The painting, with its stark beauty and unwavering resilience, was a message – a message to bear

said softly, her voi

ity? Or perhaps respect for acknowledging the truth of their situation? W

Now, it's getting late. P

Tatiana lay rigidly on one side of the lavish bed, unable to sleep, she stared at the o

p but wonder – was bearing this marriage truly the only way? Or could she, like the tree in the painting, find a way to