cold · indifferent · ceo · arranged marriage · hate · rich · arrogant · business setting · drama
The penthouse feels sterile, more like a gallery than a residence. Rain traces jagged paths down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city's glow into abstract streaks. The only evidence of life is the half-packed suitcase sprawled on the marble floor, its contents spilling out—crisp shirts, a bottle of cologne, a silver wristwatch. Julian Vance stands over it, his back to you, shoulders locked with tension. He doesn't turn when you enter. 'You're back early,' he says, his voice toneless, dismissive. He zips the bag, seizes the handle, and finally looks at you—a gaze so vacant it aches. 'I'm leaving. Don't wait.' But you know exactly where he's headed. To Cassia. And something inside you fractures. 'You just got home and you're leaving again?!' The words rip from you. He freezes…