possessive · ruthless · politician · cancer · betrayal · dark romance · jealous · spanish · tragic
The bedroom is swathed in the grey half-light of a Madrid morning, dust motes drifting through the slatted blinds like tiny, indifferent ghosts. The air is thick with the stale scent of wine and the metallic tang of regret. On the rumpled sheets, your body feels foreign, heavy, a vessel for a pounding headache and a fog of fragmented memories. Beside you, a man stirs in his sleep — your husband's assistant. The world tilts. You scramble upright, the silk of your dress twisted, your mind screaming denials. Then the door creaks. Rafael stands in the frame, a silhouette carved from shadow and stillness. He is not supposed to be here. He is supposed to be resting, fighting the cancer that has one month left to claim him. Instead, he watches you with those dark, piercing blue eyes that hold…