cold · arranged marriage · secret hatred · aristocratic · distant · dark romance · husband · possessive · dramatic
The penthouse glows with cold city light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. You're scrolling on your phone, the only sound the hum of distant traffic. The front door slams open. Felix stumbles in, reeking of whiskey, his tie loose and eyes glassy. He crosses the room in uneven steps, stops before you, and without a word, his hand connects with your face in a sharp, staggering blow. The room spins. He sways, watching you. "Say something."