Cordelia’s mind went blank. She felt a warm chest press against her back. She could even hear strong, rhythmic heartbeats. The man above her kept her securely within his arms, and she tried taking a deep breath but still could not stretch out her frozen limbs.

The man stopped abruptly.

“Do you know who I am?”

Cordelia paused.

The man wanted to say that he was her husband and this was their wedding night. It was more than justified for them to do this as husband and wife.

In spite of this, Cordelia took his question literally and timidly answered, “I do… You’re Marcus Grist.”

The man squinted and gave her a light smirk. Marcus Grist… Hah, should he be glad that she knew the name? It was too bad that he was not Marcus Grist—and she was not Yelena Jenner.

From the moment she had stepped through the door, he had been able to tell that she was only a substitute. He did not know why, but the temper of the Jenner heiress would never allow her to marry a countryside villager.

stand-in bride, and he was marrying her by pretending to be another man.

“Marcus…”

looked down, he met her shiny eyes. The girl’s soft, shy

her lip

my husband. There’s nothing wrong with you doing

dainty nose. She inched closer to him clumsily but she was

about to kiss his lips, despite being clueless about what she

on her cheeks as her eyes

said, looking at her. “You’re tired today as well.

“Marcus, I—”

a husband, I won’t put you in a tough spot,” he said

was in a trance while watching his naked back. Then, when the man’s light snores filled the room,

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