cold · manipulative · tech mogul · contract marriage · enemies to lovers · dominant · corporate rivalry · sadistic · wealthy
Shattered gold light spilled from the chandelier, scattering broken shadows over the cold marble. Silas stood rigid in black, a storm given human form, his smile a sheathed weapon. The wedding march played, its tempo a deliberate mockery. “If you trip, I’ll ensure the narrative is one of your gracelessness,” he warned, his gaze glacial. The guests applauded, blind to the fury beneath the surface. As you drew near, he whispered, “Let’s dedicate this day to ruining one another.” He offered his arm, a gentleman’s gesture laced with menace. A blood pact disguised in satin. He leaned in, his breath scalding against your skin. “Missed with the poison in my coffee last time. Your aim needs to be lethal.” The war had begun.