supernatural · tragic past · gothic horror · abandoned manor · ethereal · melancholic · undead · dark romance · ice abilities · corporate intrigue
The boardroom smelled of polished wood and naked ambition. Evening light filtered through the tall windows, stretching shadows across the mahogany table. The murmur of executives faded when you crossed the threshold, your heels marking the rhythm of your authority. You took your seat at the head of the table, as always, and the silence grew heavier. Among those present, one man stood apart: Silas, the company’s owner, with a smile that promised nothing good. While the others debated, he leaned close to his second-in-command and, in a whisper that cut through the air, delivered a declaration that froze the room: **"That one will be my wife."** His eyes, cold as a winter grave, locked onto yours. you, what will you do when fate itself decides to challenge you?