Prologue

...DEDICATION...

For you, dear reader, who loves the kind of love that burns more than it saves.

This story is yours — because you know what it means to lose yourself in the fog of a dangerous touch, to crave too much, even knowing it could consume you.

You, who are never afraid of broken characters, of possessive feelings, of promises made between kisses and threats.

You, who read about a heart that says, “I’d let the world burn for you” — and smile, because you understand.

Here, love isn’t gentle.

It suffocates, scorches, scars.

But that’s exactly why it’s unforgettable.

Welcome to the fire.

If you’re going to love here, then love it to ashes.

⋯ ❈♛❈ ⋯

It was a night of thick fog and wandering winds, as if the world itself conspired to protect a secret. In the austere silence of dawn, a hooded figure dismounted an exhausted horse at the gates of the Eckart estate — an ancestral home where nobility walked hand-in-hand with the shadows of ancient promises.

In her arms, the woman carried a newborn wrapped in dark cloth, sleeping with the peacefulness of the innocent. She approached the entrance steps, knelt with reverence, and placed the basket down — like one setting down their heart. On the blankets lay a letter, carefully folded and sealed with pale wax.

The baby did not cry. His small chest rose and fell in silence, as if he understood the urgency of remaining unseen.

The woman pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, whispered words only the night would hear, and vanished among the cypress trees, swallowed by the darkness.

⋯ ❈♛❈ ⋯

Duke Alrin Eckart was a man of meticulous habits and light sleep, as was expected of someone who bore the weight of an ancestral name. It was a sudden restlessness, an unexplainable pull, that led him to the front door without summoning any servants.

Upon opening it, he found the basket. His gaze settled on the small bundle, and then on the letter. The seal seemed vaguely familiar; breaking it, he recognized the handwriting immediately — refined, sorrowful, irrevocable. It was Angel’s.

> “This is the fruit of what we were, and what we could never be.

Protect him as your own, as you promised.

His name is Isaac.”

For a long while, the duke stood there, unmoving, as if the night had frozen around him. Then, with a steady hand, he lifted the basket and ascended the stairs with silent, resolute steps.

⋯ ❈♛❈ ⋯

In the master bedroom, Duchess Emily slept a restless sleep. To her right, in small beds, lay their children: six-year-old Ryan and four-year-old Maria, sleeping with their hands tucked under their chins. A portrait of familial peace — until scandal entered the room.

Emily awoke to the sound of the door, and upon seeing her husband with a baby in his arms, sat up abruptly, her face still blurred between dream and comprehension.

“What is this, Alrin? ” she asked, already sensing the answer she did not want to hear.

“He is my son,” the duke said, with the sobriety of a man who did not intend to ask forgiveness.

The child in the basket made a small sound, nothing more than a sigh — as if in approval of the declaration.

Emily turned pale. Her gaze slipped from the baby to her husband’s face and found a seriousness that left no room for denial.

“ Your son... with another woman? ”

“With a woman I swore to protect, ” he replied. “ And to whom I gave my word. His name is Isaac. And from today forward, he will be raised in this house.”

Little Maria woke at that moment, her large eyes blinking under the low light. She sat up silently, as if sensing that what she witnessed was not meant to be disturbed by noise.

Ryan, however, made no effort to hide his unease. His blue eyes, so like his mother’s, fixed on the baby with something more than curiosity. There was already, in the six-year-old’s expression, the beginning of silent jealousy — of a threatened territory.

Maria slipped from her bed and stepped forward, bare feet touching the cold floor. Without saying a word, she looked at the baby, then at her father.

“Will he sleep here too, Papa?”

Alrin, surprised by the question, offered a brief smile.

“ Not tonight, my flower. But someday, perhaps.”

Emily remained silent. Her pride had been wounded in a place within her soul she had never offered to anyone — not even her husband. As she turned her face away, hiding what the children should not see, she began to build an invisible wall between herself and the child whose eyes were still closed.

⋯ ❈♛❈ ⋯

Thus was Isaac born — not just into the world, but into the heart of a family divided between name and blood. He would grow with all the privileges the Eckart house could offer — except the most volatile of all: unconditional affection.

Ryan would never forget the day he had to share his father’s name.

Maria would never forget the day she saw pain and silence take up residence under the same roof.

And Isaac, though too young to remember, would forever carry the weight of a past shrouded in secrecy… and a promise whispered to the wind.

⋯ ❈♛❈ ⋯

Years later…

The grand hall of the Agrece estate shimmered with soft lights and hushed voices, elegant music weaving between laughter and toasts. It was a night of celebration — Vanessa Agrece’s coming-of-age — and every detail overflowed with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast golden reflections on mirrored walls, where dancing shadows multiplied.

Isaac Eckart, however, seemed unimpressed by the subtleties of the event. Leaning against a marble column, an untouched glass of wine in his hand, his eyes drifted lazily over the room… until they stopped.

She was on the other side of the hall, twirling to the waltz’s rhythm, her scarlet dress swirling around her ankles. Vanessa. The smile she gave to the guests was light, charming, almost carefree — but something beneath it gleamed. A silent flame. A spark that caught Isaac the instant she looked his way.

He blinked once. Then looked away, as if he’d made a mistake. But he couldn’t help it — he looked again. Discreetly. Noticed the soft curve of her neck, the way she tilted her head while listening, the way her lips curved when she smiled.

“ So, you’re hiding from the dances too? ” came a light voice, too close.

Ana Agrece appeared at his side, stunning in emerald green, her curls perfectly styled. She leaned against the same column, trying to draw him into conversation with a gentle smile.

Isaac shifted his gaze from Vanessa. Forced a faint smile at Ana, but his eyes — those blue-reddish, intense, ever-watchful eyes — drifted again to the figure across the room, as if pulled by instinct.

“ Just watching, ” he murmured, evasively.

Ana followed his gaze, trying to see what had so captured him. Her expression tightened slightly when she understood. But before she could speak, Ryan Eckart appeared at her side, all practiced charm and polished smile.

“ Ana, you look stunning tonight, as always, ” he said, taking her hand with dramatic flair. “ I hope you’ve saved a dance for me.”

Ana smiled, distracted, but didn’t answer. Her eyes were still on Isaac.

But Isaac wasn’t looking at her.

He only saw Vanessa.

Even surrounded by people, she seemed distant — like she existed in another time, another world. A world he suddenly, desperately wanted to be part of.

And when, by chance — or fate — she looked his way and their eyes met for the briefest instant, he felt it.

A jolt.

An invisible pull.

She smiled, gently — perhaps unaware someone was watching.

But his heart pounded harder, as if he’d heard a secret.

And in that moment, Isaac knew:

Nothing else in that hall mattered more than her.

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