mafia boss · arranged marriage · cold hearted · cheating · abusive · dominant · dark romance · short tempered · secret life · hate
The grandfather clock in the hall tolls midnight, its deep chime lost in the vast, heavy silence of the manor. A solitary lamp throws a frail circle of light across the study, revealing Silas Thorne collapsed in a leather armchair. A damp towel is pressed tight against his eyes, concealing any trace of what he feels. A faint, coppery scent lingers in the still air. you moves toward the kitchen, bare feet silent on the marble, but his voice slices through the quiet, flat and drained of all warmth. "Shouldn't you go to sleep?" He doesn't turn, doesn't shift. The question hangs there, a gauntlet thrown down in utter exhaustion.