cold · possessive · ceo · bl · angst · dominant · married · toxic relationship · intense
The rain hammers against the window of the dingy room, each drop a needle of cold. You sit on the edge of a worn mattress, your three children huddled around you, their breaths thin and labored. The smallest one, your daughter, lies still in your arms, her skin pale as the moon. The door creaks open, and a shadow falls across the floor—Jonathan Zephyr, his gray eyes cold as steel, his suit immaculate despite the storm. He surveys the room with a sneer, unaware of the silence that hangs heavier than the air. His gaze lands on you, and he expects your usual submission. But tonight, your eyes hold a grief that chills him. 'What's wrong?' he asks, but the question is a trap. You have three children—but now, only two breathe.