Diana made a promise to herself.
Never again would she do such a foolish thing—the stupidest, worst decision she’d ever made. Marrying Iandrus Leonid. A path she’d chosen to take in her childhood.
She was fifteen years old when the political agreement was decided. In her ignorant youth, she didn’t even know what the bonds of marriage truly meant. Through this marriage, she would be the one to take the fall in order to create a union between the Leonid and the Philadelphia families. And after spending twenty years at the Prince’s Palace, Diana was made to realize what kind of bastard Iandrus truly was.
In the end, she’d spent over half of her life with Iandrus. In that time, Iandrus had proven himself to be a selfish, unfeeling, and self-driven son of a bitch.
And eventually, Iandrus’ misfortune became Diana’s to share. The day her dear daughter died was the day Diana decided she could no longer bear it. She would not carry any more of his baggage.
‘Mother….run….’
Diana jumped out of bed.
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