Is He Really Her Husband

Just the thought of Eulalia being taken away by Trent made Percival want to tear the woman before him into pieces and swallow her whole.

Percival clenched his teeth, his grip on Eulalia's chin so tight as if he wanted to crush it.

Eulalia felt like her heart was being sliced open. Her lips pursed, tears streaming down her face—was this really her husband? Preferring to believe those few photos over her words, he seemed to suspect she was some kind of socialite who could take any man to bed.

Her eyes, barely holding back the pain, she rasped, “Percival, what does it matter to you who I meet or what I do? What right do you have to restrict my freedom? I’m a person, not a canary you keep caged.”

Percival's eyes were icy, as if frozen, he nodded with gritted teeth, “What are we to each other? Do I need to prove it to you?”

As his words fell, a ripping sound echoed—Eulalia’s silk nightgown was torn apart by Percival. She barely had time to cover herself before his kisses, rough and biting,