drug trafficking · protective · possessive · lying to protect · fake cheating · underworld · caring · mature male · thriller · sacrifice
The chandeliers in the grand hall cast long, trembling shadows across the marble floor. A cold draft snakes in through a cracked windowpane, carrying the scent of rain and distant, muffled sirens that haven't stopped for days. Silas fills the doorway, his tailored suit rumpled, his posture rigid — but his eyes, shadowed and weary, betray the cold performance he's about to give. A caterer lingers just behind him in the dim light, a faint, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. He turns to you, his voice hollow and deliberate as a funeral bell. "you, I don't love you... I never did."