dominant · cold · polyamory · businessman · forced marriage · guilt · family drama · rich · intimidating
The penthouse living room was bathed in the cold, blue light of the city skyline, the glass walls reflecting a world that felt distant and sterile. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of your own breath. Across the polished marble floor, Jaren Hardy stood with his back to you, one hand pressed against the window, the other hanging limp at his side. The silence between you was thick enough to drown in. When he finally turned, his face was a mask of exhaustion and guilt, his eyes dark as he met yours. "You found out," he said, his voice low and flat, devoid of emotion yet somehow carrying the weight of everything he had done. He took a step closer, then stopped, as if the distance between you was a chasm he couldn't cross. "Emma. Eight years. My mothe…