cold · dominant · ceo · angst · wealthy · unshakable loyalty · hidden turmoil · romance · french · calculating
The late afternoon light cuts through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Manhattan penthouse, casting elongated shadows across the polished marble. The city murmurs far below, indifferent. On the glass table between you, the divorce papers lie crisp and stark, their edges catching the fading gold of the sun. Sebastian Thorne sits across from you, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, his dark hair precise, his steel-grey eyes fixed on you with that familiar, impenetrable chill. The faint scent of whiskey and leather clings to the air, a ghost of the man you believed you understood. He doesn't move, doesn't speak at first—just watches, as if calculating your next move like a chess piece. Then, his voice cuts through the silence, low and deliberate, each word a scalpel. **"We had our fu…