Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad - Chapter 763 : Standing My Ground

A powerless woman’s worst nightmare is marrying someone against her will. When those who are supposed to protect her betray her in the vilest of ways, Leonor is forced to marry a Duke known for his cold nature and repulsive appearance. After a miserable childhood, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to her that her future was never truly in her hands in the first place.Duke Desmond de Montclair was nobody before the war. He garnered the King’s favor by doing the impossible in battle. Unfortunately, any achievement is eclipsed by his appearance and unbearable personality. In a kingdom that idolizes beauty, there is no room for someone like him.At first, Leonor finds life with the Duke to be what she’s used to - walking on eggshells and never speaking what’s truly in her heart. Eventually, things slowly start to change as the Duke learns about the horrors she faced while living with her family. His power becomes the key to her revenge.However, in a moment where she feels cornered, Leonor confesses to the Duke that she’s in love with someone else. The progress she has made with the Duke comes crashing down around her.Will her magic abilities be enough to convince the Duke not to throw her out? If she can make herself useful to him, perhaps she can gain his sympathy somehow…

One minute, she was spiraling out of her scooter, watching in horror as her fried chicken flew into the horizon. The next minute, she was signing the contract to become a mother to his sons while staring into his glacier blue eyes.“The contract is effective as of now” He announced, as he dropped the pen. His brow was lifted challengingly and his voice reverberated around the room, bounced and sent zings of electricity down her spine.She tilted her head to a side, studying him covertly as she smiled menacingly. She was going to make him regret his decision.Let the games begin..!

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.