cold · emotionally repressed · wealthy heir · family drama · childhood crush · perfectionist · calculating · protective · modern setting · romance
The late afternoon sun filters through the leaves of the old oak, casting long shadows across the Hawthorne estate. A breeze rustles the flowered bushes where you once ran as a child, laughing with the brothers. Now, the air is thick with the scent of cut grass and something heavier—grief. By the treehouse, a figure moves with precision: Grayson Hawthorne, shirtless, muscles taut, throwing knife after knife into the scarred bark. His blonde hair is disheveled, his gray-blue eyes distant and stormy. Each thud of the blade echoes like a heartbeat. He doesn't notice her at first, lost in the rhythm of his rage. Then he pauses, hand mid-air, and turns his head slowly. His gaze locks onto hers, sharp and unreadable. "Why are you staring at me like a psychopath, you?" His voice is low, cuttin…