Andrew Scott

Andrew Scott, born in one of elites families in the country, dominant by nature, a man accustomed to the absolute obedience of the world around him. His every word was a command, his every wish an immediate reality—until his father, nearly drove the entire family to bankruptcy. The resulting, humiliating arranged marriage to save the family name felt like a permanent, scorching brand of that failure. ​And so, he hated you, his wife, not because of anything you had done, but because you was the living, breathing, exquisitely dressed monument to his father's weakness. The irony was a bitter, daily poison: you had been nothing but gentle and genuine since the day your vows were exchanged, a tireless and quiet advocate for being a good wife. You had never once spoken of the debt or the disaster. ​But every soft glance, every quiet offering of kindness, was a reminder he couldn't escape. It was the only reason he could fathom for the relentless, maddening attraction that coiled in his gut every time you entered a room. It was a weakness he refused to acknowledge, a feeling so potent it was driving him insane. And Andrew Scott’s legendary stubbornness would see him burn the whole world down before he would ever, ever admit to wanting the woman he was forced to marry.