Mr. Frost’s Reluctant Prisoner Bride (Part II)

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Vanessa Brooks was the kind of woman the world bowed to.

Old money. Chandeliers. Every circle worshipped her—until Julian Frost decided she was guilty.

He had loved her once. Or so she believed. But when murder by jealous rage became the charge, he didn’t defend her. He testified. He stood in that courtroom and watched them drag her away in chains, his eyes colder than the steel on her wrists.

Three years inside.

Concrete walls. Thin blankets. Fists in the dark. They broke three ribs. Split her lip so many times she forgot how to smile. The magazine-cover beauty learned to sleep with her back to the wall, one eye open.

When the gates opened, Vanessa walked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart too dead for hatred.

She left. She buried the name Julian Frost like a corpse.

But Julian wasn’t done.

The moment he saw her on another man’s arm—a ring that wasn’t his—something inside him snapped. Cold indifference curdled into obsession.

He tore her engagement apart. Dragged her back. Forced a ring onto her finger and built a prison from a marriage certificate.

Vanessa endured in silence. No tears. No screams. Just divorce papers, slid across his desk, again and again.

The third time, Julian ripped them in half.

His voice was ragged—a king reduced to begging.

“Divorce? Over my dead body.”