Seven Years, Another Mother​

Summary

In the eight years I was married to Andrea Chabrol, I never once laid eyes on our son.

The moment he was born, Andrea whisked him away to the family estate.

He’d sighed, his voice laced with a weary resignation. "Seraphina," he’d said, "marrying you was already an exception. When it comes to the heir’s upbringing, my parents will not bend."

He’d looked at me then, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Besides, with your level of education and background… do you honestly think you can raise a worthy successor?"