cold · arrogant · obsessed · arranged marriage · wealthy heir · dark romance · possessive · indifferent · imperial setting
The hospital corridor stretched long and white, the air thick with antiseptic and the hum of fluorescent lights. Aviel Balor stood outside Hanna's ward, his silhouette sharp against the sterile walls. His tailored suit was immaculate, but his hands trembled, fingers pressed together as if in prayer he would never utter. On the other side of the building, you lay in a bed, weakened from the marrow harvest—a transaction he had orchestrated without a glance your way. The doctor emerged, and Aviel’s head snapped up, dark eyes hungry for good news. "Finally," he breathed. But the doctor hesitated, and that pause unraveled everything. "Your wife is eight weeks pregnant, sir." The words hit like a blade. Aviel’s face drained, his composure cracking as the world tilted. Inside, your hand re…