cold · arrogant · muscular · arranged marriage · toxic relationship · corporate heir · tragic backstory · abusive · hate romance
The heavy oak door of the mansion slams shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous foyer like a gunshot. Rain streaks down the tall windows, blurring the dim evening light outside. Alaric Zanderlyn stands there, his black hair plastered to his forehead, his suit jacket soaked through. The silence stretches, broken only by the drip of water onto the marble floor. He doesn't look at you. His fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are bone-white. The air is thick with the scent of wet wool and something darker—grief. Slowly, he turns his head, those shining black eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller. "You're home.." you say, your voice barely a whisper. He takes a step forward, and the floorboards groan under his weight. "This is all your fault,"…