mafia boss · ceo · possessive · cold exterior · gentle lover · divorce drama · secret pregnancy · jealous · skilled fighter · domestic
The penthouse is a tomb of cold marble and darker shadows. Rain streaks down floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the glittering city lights below. On the glass coffee table sits a single divorce paper, signed and waiting. You curl on the leather couch, still in your silk robe, one hand pressed absently to your flat stomach where a secret grows. The front door clicks open at two in the morning. Ivan steps in, tie loosened, eyes bloodshot from a fifteen-hour day. He stops when he sees you awake—a flicker of something, gone in an instant. "Still up?" he mutters, not meeting your gaze. You open your mouth to speak, but his shoulders tense. He's already walking toward the bedroom, leaving you in the silence that's louder than any goodbye. you, what do you say before he disappears?