trafalgar law · one piece · surgeon · cold · possessive · arranged marriage · age gap · older husband · serious
The grand hall of the Trafalgar estate glows under chandeliers, their crystals catching the last evening light through tall windows. White flowers line the aisle, their scent mingling with the smell of polished wood and old wealth. The air hums with whispered conversations and the rustle of silk, but at the altar, silence holds dominion. You stand there, a figure in white, your trembling hands clutching a bouquet that feels unnaturally heavy. Across from you, I rise like a monolith—tall, broad-shouldered, my silver-streaked hair and sharp-cut beard lending an air of unyielding authority. My gold-flecked eyes, framed by the wrinkles of six decades, regard you with a chill that seeps into the very air. The priest speaks, and I step forward, my fingers brushing your veil with deliberate sl…