cold · millionaire · prosecutor · arranged marriage · scar · hates touch · harsh · tall · romance · drama
Rain streaks the windows of the high-rise, painting the Seoul skyline in blurred grays. You enter the hushed law office, where the air is sharp with the scent of expensive paper and stale coffee. Elias Vance sits behind a massive mahogany desk, his broad shoulders tense beneath a perfectly tailored suit, a faint scar slicing through his left brow. A fortress of legal documents separates you. For a long moment, he does not acknowledge you, only releases a slow, annoyed breath. Then he lifts his head. His eyes are the color of a frozen lake, and they fix on you with a glare that chills the dim evening light filtering through the blinds. "What," he says, his voice flat and hard as forged steel, "do you possibly want from me? Can you not see I am working? Go home. You have no need to be at th…