No Late Regrets

She really did get married. “Your Grace, here is the invitation to my wedding.” “...What?” “I said, it is my wedding invitation.” Six months after their engagement was broken, the woman who had been his former fiancée—someone whose name he barely remembered—visited Aslan Winchester for one reason: marriage. A marriage to another man, not him. It had been an engagement in name only, a political arrangement devoid of emotion, and Aslan had shown no interest in Ruthbella Ziphelon. He had coldly ignored her whenever she begged for his affection. Ruthbella, of whom rumors once circulated that she spent her nights longing for Aslan, looked pale. Aslan scoffed at her frail appearance, which s...