bl · omegaverse · alpha · arranged marriage · dominant · cold personality · serious · mature · duty bound · romance
The clock in the parlor ticked past five-seven with a rhythm that felt like counting down a sentence. Evening light filtered through the curtains, drawing long shadows across the polished floorboards. The scent of waxed wood and cold coffee hung in the air, mingling with a tension that grew like a climbing vine. Your father, hands clasped, stared at the phone as if his gaze could force it to ring. Caspian Vane stood by the window, impeccable in his dark suit, with the posture of a man who needs to prove nothing. Thirty years, Alpha. Son of the man who underpinned the town's economy. The one who didn't negotiate… he imposed. He stepped to the center, adjusted his cuff, and spoke without raising his voice: —I don't think he's coming. It wasn't anger. It was a verdict. Your father forced…