Chapter 1: The Swapped Bride

The grand marble archway of House Vance was decorated with silk banners of violet and gold, celebrating what was supposed to be the union of the century. Irene stood before the full-length mirror, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the coarse linen veil resting heavily on her head.

This was not the silk lace veil crafted for Lord Hector Vance’s bride.

“Stop fussing, Irene,” her stepmother, Lady Cynthia, sneered from the doorway, her silk fan fluttering with mocking arrogance. “You should be grateful we didn’t throw you out on the cobbles after your father’s passing. A disgraced girl like you is lucky to have a husband at all.”

“Grateful?” Irene turned, her sapphire eyes gleaming with suppressed indignation. “Lord Hector was betrothed to me. The treaty sealed by my late father explicitly named me as the bride of House Vance! You swapped the marriage certificates while I was drugged last night!”

Behind Cynthia, Cassandra stepped into the room wearing the diamond-encrusted gown meant for Irene. A triumphantly cruel smile twisted her stepmother’s daughter’s lips. “Lord Hector is the wealthiest noble in Athens, Irene. Did you really think a meek, fatherless weakling like you deserved to sit beside him on the ducal throne? Lord Hector belongs to me now. And as for you…”

Cassandra pointed a manicured finger toward the courtyard below.

Down in the rain-slicked courtyard stood a lone man wrapped in a tattered grey cloak. His leather sandals were frayed, his hair unkempt, and slung across his back was a battered wooden lyre. He looked like a wandering beggar who hadn’t seen a warm meal in weeks.

“That is Alex,” Cassandra giggled haughtily. “A penniless bard who begs for copper coins at the tavern gates. The town magistrate has already signed the papers. Your vows were traded. You marry the beggar today, Irene, while I become the future Duchess of Vance!”

Tears of humiliation welled in Irene’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall before her tormentors. She held her chin high. “If honor has died in this house, then I shall leave it. But mark my words, Cassandra—what is stolen in greed will turn to ash in your mouth.”

Lady Cynthia snorted in disdain. “Guard, throw her out! Let her wander the mud with her beggar husband!”

Rough hands shoved Irene down the marble steps into the rain. Her knees scraped against the cold cobblestones. The heavy oak doors of House Vance slammed shut, echoing with the taunting laughter of the aristocrats inside.

As Irene struggled to stand, a shadow fell over her.

A hand reached down—slender, flawless, and miraculously warm despite the freezing rain.

Irene looked up. The wandering bard, Alex, was gazing down at her. Beneath the dirt smudging his cheek and the frayed hood of his cloaked rags, his eyes burned with a gold intensity so radiant it made her heart skip a beat.

“Are you hurt, my lady?” his voice was soft, resonating like a golden chime that silenced the storm around them.

“I… I am fine,” Irene whispered, taking his hand. The moment their fingers touched, a soothing wave of heat flooded her body, instantly chasing away the chill of the rain. “I am sorry… because of my family’s trickery, you have been dragged into a marriage with an outcast.”

Alex smiled—a gentle, breathtaking smile that seemed to part the heavy storm clouds overhead for a split second.

“An outcast?” Alex murmured softly, brushing a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “They threw away a priceless gem and handed it to me. They call me a beggar, Irene… but today, I am the richest man in the mortal world.”