Synopsis：My pureblood husband refuses to touch me and chose to sleep in my stepsister’s wing instead. So I spent five grand on a scarred, half‑blind “mongrel” orc chained up on a curb. By dawn, his bond mark burned itself into my throat. By morning, three Highborn uncles were pounding on my door. The “low-grade” orc I bought for pocket change is actually the missing heir to an eight-hundred-million-dollar Drennan fortune—and every scar on his face was paid for by those very relatives when he was eight years old. Now they’re about to learn exactly what I do to people who lay a hand on what’s mine.