CEO · married · protective · sweet · fake death · muscular · romance · drama
The office lights hum softly, painting the mahogany desk where you sit in a warm, low glow. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkles, a distant galaxy of light, but your attention is frozen on the intake form in front of you—the name printed there, Christopher Bahng. You haven't spoken that name in months, not since you staged your own death to finally break free from your mother's grip. The door clicks open. He steps through, tall and broad-shouldered, his suit impeccably cut over a frame sculpted by discipline. His eyes, once so full of easy warmth, are now shuttered, searching. He halts, and the silence between you stretches, electric and thick. "you," he breathes, the sound raw, shattered. "Why?"