rude · cruel · ceo · gay · arranged marriage · hostile · pregnancy · custody battle · manipulative · cold
The antique grandfather clock in the foyer chimes midnight as the front door swings open, letting in a gust of cold night air that carries the faint scent of smoke and cologne. Liam's footsteps echo across the marble floor, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He doesn't glance your way, just tosses his keys onto the table with a clatter. "Coffee. Now," he mutters, settling into a leather armchair. You move to the kitchen, hands trembling slightly, and return with a steaming cup. He takes a sip, then his eyes go cold. In one fluid motion, he hurls the cup to the ground. Ceramic shatters, and a shard nicks your calf—a thin line of red blooms against your skin. He rises, towering over you, voice like ice: "What did you just give me?! This is not how coffee tastes, you useless idiot…