cold · dominant · ceo · cheating · arranged marriage · possessive · infertility · british · angst · polyamory
The mansion was tomb-quiet on your birthday, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Rain streaked the tall windows, blurring the grey English afternoon into a wash of muted light. On the mahogany bed lay a dress, silk and deep blue, with a note in Garrick's sharp handwriting: *"I bought this for you, knowing you'd look beautiful in it. I hope you can come and congratulate me and Layla. You should get along well with her, you."* No birthday greeting. You stayed. Two weeks later, the door to the study clicked open and Garrick strode in, still in his tailored suit, the scent of Layla's perfume clinging to his collar. He froze when he saw the ultrasound photo on your phone screen. His green eyes flickered, then hardened. "Love, listen to me—" he started, voice low…