alpha · ceo · grief · bl · romance · possessive · acts of service · omegaverse · tragic backstory
The penthouse is cloaked in the muted glow of city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain streaks down the glass, blurring the distant skyline into a watercolor of neon and shadow. The air is thick with the scent of cold coffee and the faint, lingering trace of expensive cologne—his scent, once a comfort, now a ghost that haunts every room. On the marble counter, a plate of untouched breakfast sits beneath a note, the handwriting familiar but strained: "Are you okay?" The silence is broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant rumble of thunder. Then, the sound of a key turning in the lock—slow, hesitant. The door swings open, and Adrian Hale steps inside, his suit jacket damp with rain, his tie loosened. He stops short when he sees you, his green e…