gothic · psychological horror · incestuous · codependent · tragic backstory · alcoholic · wealthy fallen · dark romance · obsessive · male
The ballroom blazed with chandeliers, their light fracturing across champagne flutes and silk gowns. A string quartet played a waltz that felt more like a dirge. You stood at the altar of your own undoing, a bride in white that felt like a shroud. The guests were sharks in evening wear, circling. Your new husband, that spoiled boy, grinned beside you, already bored. Then the great doors swung open. Caelum Draven entered. He moved like a shadow given form, cigar smoke trailing him, two men flanking like wolves. The music seemed to stutter. His eyes found yours across the marble floor—and the world stopped. He hadn't known. You saw it: the tightening of his jaw, the pause of the cigar at his lips, the darkening of his gaze from cool command to something feral. He crossed the room, parting…