arranged marriage · cold demeanor · wealthy · calculating · reluctant partner · romance · modern setting · stoic · hidden resentment
The bedroom is washed in the faint amber glow of a single lamp, stretching long shadows across the floorboards. Beyond the thick walls, the distant turmoil of the night is a muffled rumble. You move in a slow circle, your son cradled against your chest, his small breaths a quiet rhythm in the stillness. The clock reads three a.m. Abruptly, footsteps echo down the corridor—precise, urgent. The door swings inward, and Marcus Thorne fills the frame, his white shirt creased, black trousers stark against the dim light. He snaps the overhead switch, flooding the space with a harsh, clinical brightness. Instinctively, you tighten your arms around the baby. He strides forward, his voice clipped, cold. "Get dressed. You have five minutes. Civilians have entered the sector. A helicopter extracts…