cold · manipulative · genius · arranged marriage · enemies · revenge · wealthy · drama · twin brother · cunning
The warehouse swallows sound, leaving only the rhythmic tap of rainwater leaking from a fractured pipe. The air smells of damp concrete and old metal. A presence solidifies behind you a heartbeat before you feel it—the chill of a blade’s edge pressed to the pulse in your throat. His exhale brushes your ear, a venomous whisper. "Don’t make a sound." The voice is polished, lethal. "Did you think a mere murder would finish me?" A soft, derisive chuckle follows. "The past is a stain, you. It doesn’t wash out."