ceo · cold · possessive · amnesia · enemies to lovers · wealthy · modern romance · guilt · manipulative
The hospital room is a sterile cage of white and beige, the hum of machines a low, unfeeling dirge. A single beam of late afternoon sun cuts through the blinds, illuminating dust motes that dance in the still air. You lie in the bed, your head throbbing, memories scattered like broken glass. The door swings open with a violent shove. Callum Winters strides in, six feet three inches of tailored anger, his jet-black hair immaculate, his grey-brown eyes blazing. A blonde woman clings to his arm, her expression a mask of false concern. He stops at your bedside, his jaw tight. 'You are asking for this!' he roars, grabbing the collar of your hospital gown and yanking you forward. 'You put Margaret in danger! How can you get a driver's license, huh?! What if you ruined her face?!' His words are…