Kaitlin Ratcliff POV: Heavy military boots echoed in the hallway outside. Seconds later, a thick, suffocating scent of scorched earth seeped under the door. My stomach lurched violently. That foul half-blood dragon scent belonged to Dashawn Whitaker, my husband. Bang! The heavy oak door flew open, crashing against the stone wall as harsh light from the corridor spilled into the room. Dashawn strode in wearing his crimson Dragon Knight Commander cloak, his broad frame blocking the doorway. Half a step behind him cowered a woman in a plain, unpatterned white dress—Beryl Camacho. The woman who had once saved his life at the border.She kept both hands pressed protectively over her flat stomach. Dashawn frowned and looked down at me like I was dirt beneath his boots. "Kaitlin, Beryl saved my life on the Blackflame border," Dashawn barked, his voice brooking no argument. "She is carrying my pure dragon heir now. She will stay in the main keep to recover." Beryl let out a weak, delicate cough and shrank further behind Dashawn's wide shoulder, though her green eyes flashed with smug triumph when she looked at me. I simply sat in the shadows and tossed the silver candle scissors in my hand onto the wooden table. Clatter. The sharp metallic sound made Dashawn pause. In Dragonreach Kingdom, those born without a dragon soul or inner fire were called the Dragonless—cold-blooded bottom-feeders. As the foster daughter of a southern merchant and a Dragonless woman, I used to tremble and fawn whenever he released his scent. My sudden silence clearly irritated him. "A lifesaver?" I asked, my voice colder than the winter wind outside. "Have you forgotten, Commander, that the dragon-scale armor on your back was bought with solid gold from my Southern Merchant Guild?" Dashawn's face darkened instantly. Faint red scales surfaced along his neck in anger as he took a menacing step forward. "You are a cold-blooded Dragonless woman, yet you dare threaten me?" he roared. "A threat? This is what a real threat looks like." I sneered, pulling a white jade bottle from a hidden compartment in the table. When I pulled the stopper, a bitter, freezing scent filled the room. Dashawn's pupils shrank. He instinctively took half a step back. Every dragon-kin feared this smell—it was Dragonbane-laced wine, a deadly poison that extinguished half-blood dragonfire. "If you insist on keeping her in this keep, the Southern Merchant Guild will cut off all pig iron and warhorse supplies to your army tomorrow," I said, pouring the green liquid into a goblet and pushing it to the edge of the table. "Or you can drink this right now, Commander, and prove how deep your love for her really is." Dashawn stared at the poisoned wine, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. Without my family's gold, his title as Dragon Knight Commander was an empty shell. Beryl's face turned pale. She clearly had not expected a meek Dragonless wife to threaten a royal general with poison and bankruptcy. For ten full seconds, nobody breathed. Finally, the red scales on Dashawn's neck faded. His jaw twitched as he swallowed his rage. "Do not push me too far, Kaitlin!" he spat, no longer daring to mention moving Beryl into the main building. He spun around, roughly grabbed Beryl's arm while she was still pretending to be weak, and dragged her out of the bedroom. Outside in the hall, the household servants stared at each other with wide eyes, shocked that a proud dragon-born general had backed down before a Dragonless woman. Watching them flee, I picked up the goblet and tilted my wrist, pouring the poisoned wine onto the plush rug. Hiss. White smoke rose as the liquid burned a black hole straight through the wool. On the vanity sat a bronze mirror inlaid with low-grade red dragon crystals. Reflected in the glass was my own face—twenty years old, pale, and completely free of the dragonfire scars that had ruined me before I died. I had come back. Phantom pain tore through my chest. I could still feel the heavy Dragonslayer Gold arrows pinning me to the mud, ripping through my lungs while my husband watched from the fortress walls. Last life, I had screamed and wept at this betrayal, unaware that Beryl was a Blackflame Kingdom spy carrying a rotting stillborn fetus. This time,I just want to watch them dig their own graves. I reached up to touch the hairline at the back of my neck, where a faint golden scale birthmark lay hidden. Walking to the window, I pushed open the heavy carved shutters to let the freezing wind clear out Dashawn's nauseating scent. Beryl would not give up on her spy mission, and my greedy mother-in-law Karen and vicious stepsister Chelsie were waiting in the wings. Suddenly, the sound of shattering porcelain came from the end of the hallway, followed by my husband's sister Addisyn's sharp cursing.

Kaitlin Ratcliff POV: Stepping away from the window, I walked across the room and pulled open the master bedroom door. Out in the corridor, broken blue-and-white porcelain shards glinted under the dim glow of the wall-mounted dragon crystal lamps. Addisyn Whitaker, Dashawn's spoiled younger sister, stood with her hands on her hips, pointing angrily at several trembling Dragonless maids. "You clumsy, cold-blooded trash! Are you blind?" Addisyn shrieked, lifting her silk-shod foot to kick a kneeling maid right in the chest. "Stop," I said. My voice was quiet, but it cut right through the drafty stone hallway. Addisyn froze with her foot in the air. Turning her head to see me, she did not lower her leg; instead, a mocking sneer twisted her painted lips. "Well, look who crawled out of her room," Addisyn jeered, crunching across the broken porcelain as she walked toward me. "My brother just brought home a woman carrying his royal dragon heir, and a barren, cold-blooded hen like you still has the nerve to act like the lady of the house?" On the floor, the maids buried their foreheads against the cold stone, terrified that this hot-tempered half-blood dragon would burn them alive to vent her anger. I stood my ground, my gaze sweeping over her velvet gown, which was illegally embroidered with golden dragonfire patterns. "Since you know I am the lady of this keep, why haven't you curtsied?" I asked, tilting my chin up slightly. Addisyn laughed as if she had heard the funniest joke in the realm. Lunging forward, she shoved her pointed finger almost against the tip of my nose. "Curtsy to you? You're nothing but a merchant's foster daughter reeking of copper coins!" Slap! I swung my right arm with all my strength, striking her hard across the face. My palm stung from the impact. The force of the blow snapped Addisyn's head to the side, and a bright red handprint swelled across her left cheek. Dead silence fell over the corridor. The kneeling maids gasped softly, their eyes wide with disbelief. Under Dragonreach law, a Dragonless person striking a dragon-born noble was a crime punishable by death. Addisyn clutched her burning cheek, stunned for two seconds before letting out an ear-piercing scream. "You hit me! I'll burn you to ashes with my dragonfire!" Red scales sprouted along her neck as a ball of orange-red flame flickered to life in her right palm—the weak fire of a low-tier dragon-kin. I did not take a single step back. Instead, I stepped right up to the heat of her palm and looked coldly into her eyes. "Go ahead and burn me," I said evenly. "The second your fire touches my dress, I will cut off your five-hundred-gold monthly allowance." The orange-red flame in her palm sputtered and died as if doused with ice water. Addisyn bit her lower lip so hard it turned white. Tears of humiliation pooled in her eyes, but she slowly lowered her hand. She was a parasite raised on my gold; without my money, she could not even afford her cosmetics. Hurried footsteps echoed from the stairs. Dashawn stormed back down the hall with a dark face, while Beryl trailed behind him, dabbing at her dry eyes with a handkerchief. "Kaitlin! Have you lost your mind?" Dashawn roared, spotting the red handprint on his sister's face. I turned toward him, casually shaking out my sore wrist. "I am teaching your sister the rules of this keep." "Beryl is pregnant and freezing in the side wing, yet you are out here beating my family?" Dashawn yelled, trying to pin the blame on me. "Pregnant?" I let out a cold laugh, my gaze shooting past him to lock onto Beryl. "Since she carries the Commander's bloodline, we certainly cannot be careless." I paused, watching Beryl's shoulders stiffen before I spoke again. "I demand an immediate Dragon Blood purity test for the child." Every noble house used a hollow dragon crystal needle to draw fetal blood and verify a child's lineage. Because Beryl's womb held a dead fetus rotted by cold poison, a single prick of that crystal needle would expose her lie on the spot. All color drained from Beryl's face. "No! That's impossible!" Beryl cried out. Catching herself, she quickly slumped against the wall and clutched her belly. "Dashawn, the dragon crystal needle is too harsh. Our baby is too weak to survive the test..." Dashawn fell for it immediately, stepping in front of her like a shield. "Are you trying to murder my unborn child, Kaitlin?" "Too scared to take the test?" I looked at them as if they were two circus clowns. "Fine. Keep her in the side wing. Without my written order, she won't get a single grain of rice from this keep's kitchen." Turning my back on their furious glares, I walked into my bedroom, bolted the door, and sat at my desk to write a secret letter about the Red Earth Dragon Tomb.

Kaitlin Ratcliff POV: After sealing my letter the next morning, I went downstairs to the first-floor reception hall to host a small tea party for the wives of several vassal lords. I sat in the master chair, sipping hot black tea while the noblewomen flattered me over the new batch of southern spices I had gifted them. Bang! The double doors of the hall were shoved open. Addisyn marched in with her chin held high, wearing a thick layer of white powder to hide yesterday's slap mark—and that same deep red velvet gown. Looking for revenge, she walked straight up to the center table and deliberately swept her arm across it. My porcelain teacup flew off the edge and shattered on the floor, splashing scalding red tea all over the imported rug. "What cheap trash is this? How dare you serve such swill to our guests?" Addisyn sneered, glaring at me to reclaim her lost pride. Around the table, the vassal wives instantly shut their mouths, exchanging awkward glances. None of them dared interfere in the Whitaker family's domestic war. I set my saucer down slowly. Ignoring the wet stain on the rug, I stared directly at the hem of her skirt, where roaring flames were stitched in gleaming gold thread. "Addisyn," I said, standing up from my chair. "What kind of fabric are you wearing?" Thinking I was jealous, she twirled around proudly, letting the heavy velvet flare out. "My brother brought this back from the royal capital just for me! A lowly Dragonless woman like you has probably never even seen silk this fine." I let out a cold laugh and walked toward her. Faced with my icy stare, she instinctively backed up half a step. "Not only have I seen it, I know its exact name," I said, enunciating every word clearly. "That is Royal Court Dragon-silk." Sharp gasps echoed around the reception hall. Several noblewomen paled and pulled their chairs back, trying to distance themselves from Addisyn. In this kingdom, clothing was strictly bound by bloodline rank. Only pure-blood royals with Dragon-God blood were permitted to wear golden dragonfire patterns. "According to the Royal Dragon Code, anyone outside the royal family who wears golden dragonfire thread without the King's decree commits high treason," I said, staring dead into her eyes. The smug smile vanished from Addisyn's face, replaced by sheer terror. Even an idiot knew what treason meant in the Dragon Court. "You... you're lying!" she stammered, her voice shaking. "Dashawn gave this to me!" "The Commander spends his life on the border and doesn't know capital fabrics, which can be forgiven," I snapped sharply. "But you paraded this forbidden pattern in front of vassal wives today. Are you trying to drag the entire Whitaker family to the Dragon Execution Block?" Turning my head toward the captain of the guard standing by the door, I gave a cold order. "Strip that treasonous garment off her right now and burn it!" The guard captain hesitated for a second, but under my piercing gaze, he stepped forward with two maids. "Don't touch me! How dare you!" Addisyn shrieked, scrambling backward, but the captain had already grabbed her velvet collar. Riiip! The expensive gown tore apart at the seams, leaving Addisyn standing in the middle of the hall in nothing but her thin white silk slip. Shivering violently, she crossed her arms over her chest as hot tears spilled down her powdered cheeks. The vassal wives turned their heads away, whispering behind their folding fans. "Kaitlin, you vicious bitch! I'll make my brother divorce you today!" Addisyn screamed at the top of her lungs. "Divorce me? Fine," I said, walking up to look down at her shivering frame. "Until then, butler, cut off the young lady's monthly gold allowance completely, and close every single credit tab she holds in the capital's shops." Standing by the pillar, the old butler wiped cold sweat from his forehead and bowed low. "Yes, Madam." Losing her credit accounts meant she was completely broke in high society. Sobbing hysterically, Addisyn covered her face and bolted out of the hall in her underclothes. I waved my hand, and the guards tossed the torn velvet dress into the roaring fireplace. As the gold threads crackled and burned into black ash, I turned back to the stunned noblewomen with a gentle smile. "Forgive the, ladies. The tea has gone cold—let me have the kitchen bring a fresh pot." The vassal wives hurriedly bowed their heads in respect, their eyes filled with newfound fear. Leaving them to their tea, I walked out the front gates and climbed into my carriage to claim the forbidden gold mines in the western suburbs.