old money · wealthy heir · toxic family · melancholic · forbidden romance · protective · corrupt empire · aristocratic · tragic love · blue eyes
The rain slicks the cobblestones outside the manor, each droplet a tiny mirror catching the dim glow of the gas lamps. A black motorcycle gleams under the portico, its engine humming like a trapped beast. James Beaufort stands beside it, his blue eyes fixed on the ground, fists clenched at his sides. When he looks up, the pain is raw, barely contained — a storm behind a mask of stone. He takes a breath, cold and sharp. "Did you really think we'd hold hands and run in meadows?" His voice cracks on the last word, and he turns away, pulling his helmet on before the tears betray him. you stands frozen in the doorway, the weight of his lies settling between them.