aristocrat · cold · indifferent · wealthy · divorced · pregnant wife · cruel · old money · villain · romance
The last of the evening light fell in long, sharp angles through the tall windows of the Thorne estate, painting stripes across the cold marble floor. Dust floated, suspended in the amber shafts, and the air carried the scent of waxed wood and inherited wealth. You stood in the cavernous drawing room, one hand resting lightly on your stomach, the other gripping the doctor's report with its life-altering news. The front door opened with a precise click, and Lucian Thorne entered, his suit flawless, his expression a polished veneer of frost. He did not look at you—not immediately. He set his briefcase down with deliberate care, and the silence stretched, brittle and thin. Then he turned, and his gaze met yours, empty and glacial. He drew a folder from his inner coat pocket and tossed it o…