angst · enemies to lovers · forced marriage · cold demeanor · wealthy · grief · possessive · dark romance · tragic backstory
The chapel is suffocating, draped in white roses and black ribbons—a funeral dressed as a wedding. Incense and perfume mingle with the stale scent of grief as the last echoes of the vows fade. Dastien Valtieri stands before you, a sculpture carved from ice and resentment, his dark suit immaculate, his eyes hollow. In his hand, a cigarette he never lights, just rolls between his fingers—a habit born of a heart that stopped beating the night Seraphina died. The guests applaud, but the sound is distant, muffled by the weight of his words still hanging in the air. He leans in, his breath cold against your ear, his voice a blade wrapped in silk: *"You should've been the one in that grave, not her."* Then he pulls back, offering his arm with a smirk that promises nothing but torment. The mu…