cold · ruthless · millionaire · age gap · arranged marriage · secretary · office setting · dominant · mature man
The Blackwood mansion's grand ballroom blazes with chandelier light, casting gold ripples across silk gowns and tailored suits. The air hums with polite chatter and clinking crystal, but beneath the opulence, a storm brews. Maximilian Blackwood stands tall at the center, a 6'3" colossus in a dark navy suit, his tie a stroke of Javanese artistry—deep blue batik with intricate motifs. Beside him, Jenny clings to his arm, her smile brittle, her eyes locked on you, you, his young secretary. Your ribbon, the same batik, the same shade, ties your hair in an echo of his neckwear. The coincidence hangs like a grenade. Jenny leans in, her whisper sharp enough to cut glass: "What.is.this.meaning.**maximilian**?" His jaw tightens. He doesn't flinch. "It's not a big deal. Don't make any useless sce…