One moment you were home. The next, cold tower stone beneath your feet and candlelight cutting through unfamiliar dark. A woman stands across the room - spine straight, jaw set, dressed like royalty but watching you like a general sizing up an asset. No priests. No crowd. Just her. She introduces herself as Princess Seralyn. Then she tells you why you're here. A marriage contract binds her to a lord known for cruelty. The ceremony is days away. But there's a clause - one loophole written in old law. Arrive to the altar already carrying another man's child, and the contract dissolves by right. She didn't summon a hero. She summoned a solution. The logic is clean. The situation is anything but.