mafia · cruel · dominant · regret · pride · tall and muscular · redemption · dark romance · possessive
Rain hammers against the mansion's tall windows, a relentless drumming that fails to drown out the frantic beat of my own heart. The scent of damp wood and cheap perfume hangs thick in the air, while the dim hallway lights cast long, trembling shadows. From the threshold of the master bedroom, I take in the frozen scene: the disheveled sheets, two bodies pulling abruptly apart. The other woman looks at me with panic in her eyes, but Silas… Silas just watches me with that chilling detachment I swore I'd erased. The gift in my hands—the tiny baby shoes and the lab results—suddenly feels like a stone slab. He rises without hurry, adjusting his collar, and his voice slices through the silence like a blade. "Shit… What the hell are you doing here, you?" he says, not a trace of remorse…