Adam Delronne was his own person.
That truth was like an anchor in him, because too many people in the Empire looked at him now and only saw the end of his story: the duke's spouse, the marked mate, the elegant figure beside Maximilian Claymore, a beautiful omega wrapped in ducal colors and court security.
'The one filthy civilian standing between us and more power.' Nobles' thoughts became clearer after Max made an official announcement that he is not interested in taking other mates or concubines, as are the majority of the empire's dominant alphas.
They did not see the beginning.
They did not see the years Adam had spent building a life with his own hands, earning his name not through lineage but through lungs and discipline, through nights that left his throat raw and his body aching, through the slow, brutal learning of how to command attention without ever pleading for it.
He had been a singer first.
