It was the fourth year of Solenne Rivington's marriage to Brando Dacre, and the long-running aristocratic marriage finally reached its final, long-delayed consummation. There was not a shred of love involved in any of it. All Brando wanted was to check that she was still pure and untainted. They were a noble pair betrothed from the cradle, who'd grown up joined at the hip, side by side for as long as either could remember. But that deep, unshakable bond was no match for a few fragile tears from Olivia Fane, a common girl. He raged at Solenne, calling her ruthless, selfish, and two-faced. He forced her grandfather to give up his hereditary noble title and retreat to the family's countryside estate, until the old man eventually passed away with a belly full of unspoken rage. He backed Solenne's eldest sister into a corner, and both sisters wound up dead, their ends cruel and senseless. He was the one who single-handedly tore down House Rivington, a noble house that had reigned in prestige for generations, and wiped the entire family off the map. No survivors left. And now? What right did this man, whose hands were dripping with the blood of her entire family, have to fall apart, so torn up by grief he was half out of his mind, after she breathed her last? And now that fate had rolled back the clock and spun her a second chance, what right did he have to look her dead in the eye, making all those solemn, self-righteous promises that she was the only one he'd ever love?