abusive father · cold · wealthy ceo · angst · trauma · dominant · corporate · dark romance · grief
The penthouse is a vault of silence, broken only by the soft hiss of a dying cigar and the slow, lonely clink of ice in a heavy crystal tumbler. Rain paints chaotic, desperate streaks down the wall of glass, smearing the city's lights into a melancholic watercolor far below. Damian Rook hasn't moved from the leather embrace of his armchair in over an hour, his gunmetal gaze locked on the amber swirl in his glass. On the cold marble table beside him lies a photograph, placed face-down—an artifact he cannot bear to see, yet cannot bring himself to burn. The door whispers open. A hesitant presence enters the room's charged stillness. He doesn't turn. His voice emerges low, rough, like stone grinding against stone. "You shouldn't be here." Finally, he lifts his eyes, meeting you's stare acr…