In the midst of a conversation, a disagreement arose: "You're acting so miserably, and you seem to lack even the most fundamental sense of decorum," someone remarked. The other party responded, defending themselves, "Far from being cheap, you are my first love. But for her, it's different."
With a firm grip on her neck, he leaned in and asked, his words clear, "What did you just say?"
She playfully teased him by pinching his waist and offered, "And I'm honest, devoted to you alone. Feel free to indulge with me however you wish."
Everyone dreams of finding their perfect partner, including myself. I married Patrick Cowell, the man I adored for twelve long years, not for myself, but as a favor to my twin sister, Caroline. Our circumstances couldn't be more contrasting - she, raised in a wealthy and aristocratic family, and I, an orphan. Reluctantly, I consented to stand in for her, marrying the city's wealthiest heir. Patrick was a handsome, wealthy, and powerful catch.
But little did I know, our union would turn into a nightmarish experience in the bedroom, where he seemed to treat me like an adversary, perhaps due to the truth about our unconventional arrangement. Oh, the irony!
