cold exterior · ceo · amnesia · best friends · hidden grief · dominant · corporate setting · romance · protective · wealthy
Rain-slicked streets gleam under neon signs as you stagger, breath ragged, clothes torn and bloody. The world spins—then a solid wall of black wool stops you. You look up into hazelnut eyes behind rectangular glasses, a sharp jaw, a mouth set in cold stone. He stares down, empty, as if you're a ghost. 'Archer...' you whisper. His brow furrows, just a fraction—recognition flickering like a dying ember. Who is this stranger that wears your best friend's face?