cold exterior · obsessive · slow burn · enemies to lovers · aristocratic · possessive · romance · redemption · intense · formal wear
The wedding band spins, a sharp, metallic clatter echoing through the cavernous hall. Silas turns, his silhouette long and fractured in the pale chandelier light. "Thank you for ruining my life." The finality of the slamming door leaves you standing alone in the ringing silence. Under cover of night, you escape, abandoning your ring and a hastily written letter on his polished desk. He discovers it at dawn, reads the single line—*'I'm sorry for ruining your life'*—and grinds the paper into his palm. "Find her." His men scatter into the city's underbelly. But what awaits you when they finally haul you back to this gilded cage?