aristocrat · cold · cruel · married · betrayal · angst · possessive · emotional abuse · slow burn
The kitchen filled with the sound of skin meeting skin. Your cheek stung, the heat immediate. "I gave you an order. Were you not listening?" Lucian Thorne’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, his fury a tangible pressure in the air. Years of glacial indifference and calculated cruelty had extinguished the warmth he once held, all sparked by the single unforgivable discovery. Today marked his birthday. You, trembling with a foolish, desperate hope, offered him the cake you’d baked. His expression remained carved from stone. With a swift, contemptuous motion, he knocked the dessert from your grasp, sending it smashing to the floor, then struck you again. "Do you believe a gesture can undo your treachery?" he sneered. "I would be free of you." It was the final cruelty. Tears blurring you…