Seven years of marriage.
Not once did my husband cross the threshold of my bedroom.

He had someone else, of course. A girl he “rescued” from the battlefield—some bright-eyed, wildflower orphan he’d taken a shine to.

She made a sport out of taunting me:
“So what if you’re the legal wife? You still sleep alone every night.”

I just smiled, scratched behind Duke’s ears—my loyal shepherd—and thought,
Honestly? A dog’s more loyal than a man. Easier to feed, too.

No sex, no drama, no chores? Best years of my damn life.

Until the day he came back from D.C., and everything started to shift.

Chapter 1

I’m Vivian Rivers. Daughter of Senator William Rivers, the golden girl of Philadelphia society.

At a midsummer gala, I dove into the river to save a visiting Southern senator’s niece from drowning.

Word got to the First Lady, Beatrice Grant herself. Said I was brave, poised, and “made for high places.”

Next thing I knew? A presidential proclamation landed on my father’s desk.

I was to marry General Nathan Marshall—the war hero stationed in the Dakota Territory.

I nearly fainted in the drawing room. Fell to my knees and begged, “Please, ma’am, I’m no fit match for General Marshall. He already has someone else.”

Everyone knew it. The whole damned capital knew it.
He had a woman. Lily Rowe. A battlefield darling he pulled from the ashes.
He’d declared publicly—at a veterans’ fundraiser, no less—that he’d never take another wife.

He meant to spend his life with her. Period.

I snuck a glance at him when the proclamation was read aloud. He looked like thunder bottled up in a man.

My father lost sleep for weeks. He sent letter after letter to the President, pleading for mercy.
Every one was returned, stamped and denied.

And Nathan? He didn’t say a damn thing. Not one protest. Not one word.

Then came the wedding day.

We were halfway through the ceremony—just about to make our vows—when a maid burst into the room, panting.

“General! Miss Rowe—she’s collapsing! Heart’s gone wrong!”

Nathan dropped the ceremonial ribbon like it burned him.
Didn’t even hesitate. Walked straight out the chapel doors, past the stunned guests, trailing red silk down the aisle like a bloody ghost.

Everyone froze. I watched him vanish through the veil of my bridal gown.
The room spun. My hand clenched the cold ribbon he left behind.

New husband gone? Screw the rest of the ceremony.
I yanked off the veil, stood tall, and plastered on the most dignified smile I could manage.

“If the groom won’t greet the guests,” I said sweetly, “then the bride shall do.”

Because this marriage wasn’t just two families—it was a political fuse lit by the White House. I couldn’t walk away without igniting scandal across the damn Eastern Seaboard.

Most guests took the cue and moved to the reception hall like nothing had happened.

My brother tried to storm out after Nathan. I stopped him by the arm.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Let it go.”

“He humiliated you in front of half of Washington!”

“It’s not like I expected anything less. This isn’t a love match. Never was.”

He clenched his jaw, shoulders heaving.
“You deserve better than this, Viv.”

I smiled softly. “Maybe. But in this world, dignity will get you further than tears.”

Later, I heard my father and brother gave Nathan the coldest stares in the reception line.
He took it. Silent. Stone-faced.

That night, the “honeymoon suite” glowed blood-red with candles, silk, and a thousand dollars’ worth of flowers.
Useless, really.

I sat at the vanity, letting Amber undo my hair. When the general walked in, I didn’t turn.

“How’s Miss Rowe?” I asked casually.

He sat across the room, shadows cutting his face in half.
“She’s… recovering. Took a chill a few days ago. I’m sorry she disrupted tonight. It wasn’t her intention. I apologize on her behalf.”

I turned to face him. “No need to apologize, General.”

He blinked, surprised.

“I know why we’re here. This marriage isn’t about love—it’s about politics. I won’t fight for something that was never mine. I’ll manage the household. Host the events. Play my role. That’s all I ask—let me live in peace.”

His brows relaxed. “You’ll have your dignity,” he said. “I promise you that.”

“Then I thank you, General.”

I turned back to Amber. “Let’s finish this,” I said. My neck ached from that goddamn bridal crown.

He showered in silence. I slipped into bed with a book.
He joined me five minutes later—no words, no gestures—just pulled a blanket over his side and lay down.

The bed was massive. Hand-carved cherry wood. My mother had it built when I was sixteen, from some Southern artisan who specialized in wedding sets.

It was meant to hold a future. A family. A love.

Now it just held distance.

He closed his eyes. I snuffed out the last candle.

“You need that for something?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep with light,” I replied, flat.

We settled into our respective corners of the bed like two ghosts inhabiting the same grave.

I didn’t expect him to touch me. Hell, I was relieved.
But staring at the red ribbon across the headboard still stung.

I’d once dreamed of love—like the kind my sister had, the kind my parents modeled every day.
Warm, loud, messy, real.

Instead, I got an empty room and a man who belonged to someone else.

Still, I wasn’t about to cry over it.

At least, not out loud.

The pounding started just past midnight.

Fists against the door. Voices shouting.

I sat up, groggy and irritated. “Amber! What the hell’s going on out there?”

Amber’s voice came muffled but frantic:
“Mrs. Miller from Lily’s wing is demanding to see the General. Says it’s urgent.”

Nathan started to rise, but I grabbed his arm.
“You’re not leaving this room,” I said, steel in my voice.

He looked at me, surprised.

“I know you care about her,” I said. “But you humiliated me in front of everyone today. My family. The whole damned capital. You owe me tonight.”

I dug my fingers into his wrist, felt his pulse beat beneath silk.

“You said you’d give me dignity. Start here.”

Then I stood. Pulled on my gown. Let the golden embroidery catch the candlelight as I turned to face him. Let him see the wife he didn’t choose.

He froze. Then sat back on the bed without a word.

I stormed out the door.

The hallway went dead silent the moment I appeared.
Everyone expected him, not me.

“Ma’am,” one of the maids stammered.

I scanned them all, letting my gaze linger on the trembling maid beside Mrs. Miller.

“Amber,” I said calmly, “Send word to Dr. Zhao. Miss Rowe can have a house physician. As for the noise…”

I turned to Mrs. Miller.

“Thirty lashes for disturbing the General’s quarters on his wedding night. Lock her in the smokehouse until sunrise.”

Amber grinned. “With pleasure.”

One of the older women hesitated. “Ma’am, this is a wedding night. Shouldn’t we avoid blood?”

I smiled coldly. “You should’ve thought of that before you made a scene at midnight.”

Just then, from inside the bedroom came a voice like frost.

“Gag her,” Nathan called out.

Mrs. Miller didn’t get another word out before someone shoved a rag in her mouth and dragged her off down the corridor.

And me?

I stood there in gold and crimson, calm and unshaken, a woman wronged—but not broken.

Chapter 2

There are no secrets in this world—at least not in a place like this.

By the morning after our farce of a wedding, word had spread like wildfire. I went to sleep as Senator Rivers’ daughter—envy of every debutante in D.C.—and woke up a punchline.

The General didn’t even stay through the vows. That kind of insult? People dine out on it for years.

Naturally, the President and First Lady caught wind of it. Nathan was dragged back east and ripped a new one behind closed White House doors.
As for me? First Lady Beatrice sent her personal maid with a velvet-lined apology and a chest full of trinkets that probably cost more than my dowry. Some jewels for my trouble, and a message loud and clear for the other woman.

After the dust settled, I took Amber with me to pay Lily Rowe a visit.

After all, she was delicate. Breezes made her sick. A flower so frail, her petals wilted under moonlight.
And God forbid anyone mistreat the General’s precious darling.

I didn’t bother knocking.

We rounded the corner to find her curled up in Nathan’s arms, sobbing into his chest like a child denied candy. Her dress was silk, her tears sparkling. A portrait of perfect, pitiful femininity.

“Nate,” she whimpered, voice all tremble and lace, “I swear I didn’t mean to ruin your wedding night… I didn’t know I’d get sick again… Mama and Hanna just panicked, they didn’t mean any harm—”

Nathan rubbed her back gently, like she might break.

I almost laughed.

Everyone knew the story: Lily threw herself in front of a Confederate saber to save Nathan’s life during the war. Whether that was true or just good PR didn’t matter—he loved her for it. Worshiped her for it.

And I? I wasn’t trying to compete. God no.

Amber cleared her throat loudly. The moment hung like smoke.

Lily turned, startled, then tried to rise—too quickly. She collapsed against him again in a graceful swoon.

“Mrs. Marshall,” she murmured, pale and simpering.

I didn’t even blink. “Don’t trouble yourself, Lily. You’re clearly not well. Rest. That’s what you need.”

“I should be the one bringing tea to you,” she said, voice shaking, “not the other way around. I—I’m so sorry for what happened. The disruption… the embarrassment…”

I smiled, warm as molasses. “Oh, don’t blame yourself. These young girls and over-eager housemaids do get worked up, don’t they? No sense letting them rattle your nerves. What did the doctor say?”

Lily placed a delicate hand on her chest. “Just my old heart trouble, acting up again. Can’t handle cold air, or stress. I’m afraid it’s something I’ll always carry. But Nate’s care has kept me going.”

Subtle as a snake.
She might as well have looked me dead in the eye and said:
Don’t think being his wife means you get to boss me around.

According to household protocol, a mistress like her was supposed to show up every morning to greet the lady of the house. But if she’s “too sick,” and I press the issue? She drops dead, and guess who’s the villain?

Fine by me. I didn’t want to see her anyway.

“Darlin’, don’t say such things,” I replied sweetly. “You focus on getting better. No more obligations, no more morning greetings. Let’s not risk your health for old traditions.”

Nathan seemed pleased by my “grace.”

Of course he was.

Moments later, steaming herbal tonic was brought in on a silver tray. Lily sipped it like a duchess while I stood there, playing the good wife.

Eventually, Nathan and I left her room together.

We hadn’t gone ten paces when he said, “Lily’s condition… it’s gotten worse. I might need you to help with her care.”

I stopped cold.

Was he serious?

I’d just spent twenty minutes politely handing the whole mess back to the staff, and he wanted to dump it in my lap?

I turned slowly. “General, respectfully, she seemed to be doing just fine before I arrived. The staff have managed her care well enough for years. If anything, they’re more familiar with her needs than I am. And just so you know, my own health hasn’t exactly been perfect. You’re welcome to ask my mother next time we’re in Philadelphia.”

That last part wasn’t a bluff. Mom had nearly collapsed when she learned I was being married off to a man already in love.

He paused, clearly thrown off.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he muttered. “Just… now that you’re officially part of this household, all management falls to you. There’ll be… complications. I didn’t want you blindsided.”

I tilted my head, smiling like a knife.
“I appreciate the heads-up. Don’t worry—I won’t mistreat your beloved. She’ll be cared for exactly as she always has been.”

Something in my tone hit him. He blinked, then did something I didn’t expect.

He bowed.

Not a half-hearted nod, not a casual tip of the head—but a full, stiff-backed, fist-to-chest military-grade bow. To me.

I froze.

General Nathan Marshall—the man who’d stood face-to-face with Union generals and never flinched—was bowing to me.

For her.

I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or vomit.

“Much appreciated, Mrs. Marshall,” he said quietly.

I turned my face before he saw the tears.

“I’ve got household matters to attend to. You’ll excuse me.”

Three days later, it was time to go home. The official “return visit,” as they called it.

My mother held me like I was heading off to war. Nathan, ever the gentleman, stood beside me and played the part—apologies, small talk, the whole song and dance.

My parents kept their feelings buttoned up, mostly. They had to. My fate was sealed, and Nathan was the man who held the strings now.

Dinner was awkward but civil. No yelling, no tears—just a quiet, gut-churning unease.

Before I left, Mom pulled me aside and whispered, “Did he… did you two consummate the marriage?”

I hesitated, then nodded with a fake little blush.
She looked so relieved, I thought I’d break.

Outside, I spotted my father speaking with Nathan.

“Vivian’s stubborn,” he said softly. “Always has been. If she acts out, don’t take it personally. She’s not used to being ignored.”

Then… he bowed.

My father—Senator William Rivers.
The man who once faced down an entire congressional coup with his spine straight and unbending—bowed to my husband.

For me.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My vision blurred. My lungs burned.

Nathan stepped back, eyes wide. “Please, sir, don’t…”

“She’s all I have,” my father said. “I don’t ask for love. Just treat her with kindness.”

Nathan nodded, eyes unreadable. “You have my word.”

My father smiled—just once—and turned away.

On the carriage ride back, I stayed quiet until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
I lifted the curtain and looked back.

He was still standing at the gate. Still watching.

I dropped the curtain. Covered my face. Let myself sob.

Nathan reached out, like he might offer comfort—then thought better of it and pulled his hand back.

I snapped my head toward him, eyes blazing.

“If you never wanted me,” I hissed, “why did you marry me?”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

And for once, he sounded like he meant it.

Back at the estate, we stepped down from the carriage together.

Lily Rowe was waiting—like always.

Her cheeks were pink, her posture delicate. A bit too polished for someone still “recovering.”

“General. Mrs. Marshall.”

Nathan immediately stepped toward her. “Lily, you shouldn’t be out—”

“I’m fine,” she said, her eyes never leaving him.

I didn’t even pause.

“I’ve got work to catch up on. The household won’t run itself.”

I didn’t wait for a response. Just walked away, Amber at my side.

Behind me, I heard Lily’s soft, confused voice:
“What’s wrong with her?”

“She misses home,” Nathan said.

And maybe I did.
But not nearly as much as I missed the version of myself I’d buried on my wedding day.