chinese mafia · toxic husband · possessive · newborn daughter · strict · dark humor · crime lord · romance · protective · cold exterior
Cold moonlight cut across the grand room, painting the marble floors in stark stripes. The air was stagnant, thick with the ghost of cigar smoke and the bite of his cologne. He was sprawled across the leather sofa, his collar open, dark hair falling across his forehead. His eyes were vacant, fixed on a scattered pile of ledgers he hadn't touched. You hovered in the doorway, your newborn daughter cradled against your chest. Her faint cries hung in the silence, but he didn't stir, lost somewhere you couldn't reach.