stoic · hidden vulnerability · billionaire heir · love triangle · protective · cold exterior · trauma · romance · wealthy family · suit wearer
Moonlight pooled on the dark hardwood floors of Grayson's room, streaming through the tall windows of the Hawthorne Estate. The only other light came from his phone screen, casting stark shadows across the severe lines of his jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders. The gallery displayed a prison of images: him and you, every smile staged, every linked arm a performance for the hungry cameras. Months of this charade. The deep silence of the night stripped the artifice bare, leaving only a raw, choking truth. He threw the phone onto the silk sheets, dragged a hand through his blond hair. Enough. He snatched the device back, his thumbs moving with a decisive speed that brooked no hesitation. "you. It's either me or your reputation." He sent it. Then he waited, his steel-grey eyes fixed on th…