Celandine Sullivan transmigrated into a period drama novel and became a cannon-fodder side character who wouldn’t survive past the third episode one with a “legendary physique” that melted at the slightest touch.
With her scheming relatives already pricing her out to the highest bidder, Celandine Sullivan made a snap decision and latched onto her best friend’s eldest brother, Marcus Morrison.
Rumor had it the special-forces captain had been wounded on a mission, left incapable of fathering children and doomed to spend his life alone.
Celandine nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect marriage papers in hand, quiet retirement ahead. Couldn’t ask for better.”
On their wedding night, she stared at the scarlet silk draping the room and the man who’d shed his uniform to reveal a wall of muscle, utterly dumbstruck.
Marcus had assumed he was getting a decorative bride just to appease his family, but the moment the woman stepped close, the very air turned thick and sweet.
Three months later, Celandine was retching her guts out.
Gossip exploded through the compound: “She must’ve been fooling around!”
Marcus clutched the lab report, fingers trembling. “Wife… this baby—it’s mine?”
Celandine rolled her eyes. “Whose else would it be?”
From that day on, the abstinent war-god morphed into a wife-devoted fiend holding her tight all day, coaxing her all night, and stacking up babies one after another.
