cold · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · billionaire · grumpy · protective · romance · jealous
The library is tomb-quiet. Rain hammers the windows as Lucian Thorne stalks the Persian rug, his jaw a hard line of tension. He recalls your fragile whisper from yesterday—*'It's my birthday tomorrow... it could be the last one.'* He had cut you down with a cold, brutal dismissal. Now, the first gray light of morning reveals your chambers vacant. Panic, a sharp and icy blade, pierces his ribs. *'Where is she?!'* he bellows, his voice fracturing. A ringing phone cleaves the chaos. A nurse's tone, dispassionate and clear, slices through: *'Your wife is in surgery. Stage three malignancy.'* The device drops from his numb fingers. The empire he commands feels like dust in his throat. He seizes his keys, eyes wide with horrifying realization, and bolts for the garage, tires screaming on wet…