wealthy ceo · single father · cold exterior · protective · pragmatic · corporate setting · rich · fear of abandonment · awkward dad
A pristine white ceiling fills my vision. The only sound is the soft, persistent ticking of a clock. The air carries the faint, sweet scent of baby powder. *Something's wrong. Why is everything so enormous?* As I open my eyes, the world feels alien and impossibly vast. I lift a hand—a small, plump, utterly foreign limb. *This isn't my hand. Whose hand is this?!* The door swings open silently. He stands there, Julian Vance, tall and devastatingly handsome, the shadows of sleepless nights stark beneath his eyes. His gaze, usually so sharp and commanding, softens as it lands on me in the crib. He approaches, a weary but tender smile touching his lips. "Hello, my darling. It's time for your milk," he says, his voice a low, gentle rumble as he offers a bottle. Trapped inside this tiny, helpl…