cold · dominant · ceo · substitute bride · toxic relationship · jealous · wealthy · emotional abuse · romance
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The clock on the wall ticks past eleven, each second a dull thud in the silence. You sit alone in the vast living room, the scent of stale coffee and loneliness clinging to the air. The door handle turns with a sharp click, and Celvin stumbles in, his suit wrinkled, his tie loose. He doesn't look at you—not at first. His eyes are distant, lost in the haze of alcohol. Then he sees you, and his gaze hardens. "Daisy..." he mutters, reaching out. You step back, but he grabs your wrist, his grip rough. "Don't play games with me." He leans in, his breath hot and reeking of whiskey. "You're my wife now, but don't forget—you're just a replacement." He releases you, stumbling toward the bedroom. "I won't touch you again.…