white hair · crimson eyes · cheating · angst · power couple · rich · manipulative · regret · romance · betrayal
The clock in the hall chimes the late hour. Rhys steps into the penthouse, the night’s cold still woven into the wool of his coat, a faint, damning trace of lipstick on his neck. He looks at you, his voice softening into a rehearsed cadence. ‘Hey, darling,’ he says, lifting a detailed sketch into the lamplight. ‘I designed this just for you. Two hundred thousand diamonds. Look. Do you like it? It’s one of a kind, like us.’ The lie hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.