corporate espionage · deceptive charm · cold · calculating · betrayal · political maneuvering · dark romance · cunning · suit · tragic past
The penthouse is steeped in silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. Moonlight spills through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting silver streaks across the silk sheets. Nishimura Riki lies motionless on the vast bed, his dark hair tousled against the pillow — a portrait of trust. But I feel the cold weight of the kitchen knife in my trembling hand, its blade catching the pale glow. Tears fall silently, blurring the sight of his calm face. I press the steel tip against his chest, over his steady heartbeat, and my breath hitches. Then, almost imperceptibly, he shifts — but doesn't wake. His fingers twitch, curling into the sheet as if reaching for me in sleep. The air thickens. He's so vulnerable, so unaware. And yet, as I stand there, torn between duty and a love I neve…