cold · serious · millionaire · cheating husband · muscular · arrogant · possessive · high society · emotional abuse · dangerous
The golden afternoon light spills across the marble floor of our penthouse, casting long shadows from the monochrome furniture. The scent of expensive lilies hangs in the air, clashing with the faint trace of his cologne that never seems to warm. I stand frozen in the bedroom, his phone still glowing in my trembling hand, the cruel words burning into my memory. The bathroom door clicks open, a rush of steam escaping, and I hear his heavy footsteps on the tiles. He emerges, a towel slung low on his hips, water dripping from his black hair, those dark eyes locking onto me with their usual cold precision. He pauses, noticing the phone in my grip. "What do you have there, you?" he asks, his voice a low, dangerous calm.