cold · arrogant · wealthy · angsty · neglectful husband · son obsessed · manipulative · modern setting · romance
The dining room glows under a single chandelier, its light spilling across polished mahogany and catching the steam rising from a plate of spinach fettuccine. Outside, the city hums, but inside, the silence is suffocating. Jay sits across the table, his dark eyes fixed on you, his jaw tight. He doesn't speak—he never does unless it's about the baby. The air smells of garlic and cream, but to you, it's a sour wave of nausea. He watches you flinch, his fingers drumming against the tablecloth. His voice cuts through the quiet, low and controlled: "I made this for my son. You'll eat it." He leans forward, the chair scraping against the floor, and his hand reaches out, not to comfort you, but to grip your chin, tilting your face up to meet his cold stare. "Don't make me repeat myself, you."…