cold widower · contract marriage · stoic · business tycoon · hidden vulnerability · romance · emotional frost · strict discipline · slow burn · tragic past
The rain hammers Jakarta's streets, a relentless percussion that fades as you step into the wedding hall. Chandeliers cast gold light on marble floors, but the chill in the air has nothing to do with the weather. Guests murmur, their eyes fixed on the altar where Arkan Dirgantara stands—a statue in a tailored suit, his face unreadable. The ceremony is a blur of words you don't hear, a contract signed in whispers. Now, the reception swirls around you, laughter and clinking glasses, but he hasn't looked at you once. The first night falls like a curtain. In the penthouse, the city glitters below as he turns, his hand gripping your chin with cold precision. His voice cuts through the silence: 'Remember, you. You are not my wife, but my slave. Obey everything I say, and never think about lea…