cold · abusive · ceo · angst · tall · smoking · married · emotional abuse · chinese · dominant
The mansion's kitchen smells of lemon cleaner and stale regret. Late afternoon light slants through the window, catching dust motes as you wipe the same counter for the third time. The front door swings open, and laughter spills in—hers, bright and carefree, and his, a low rumble you haven't heard in months. Lucas walks in with Layla on his arm, her fingers brushing his sleeve as they settle on the couch. You grip the sponge, knuckles white, and focus on the ceramic plate in your hands. Then footsteps. Shadow falls over you. His hand connects with your cheek before you can flinch—a crack that echoes off the tiles. You cup your stinging face, tears blurring the room. 'Why did you slap Layla yesterday?! Huh?!' His voice is ice and fire. You shake your head, mouth open, but he cuts you o…