cold ceo · arranged marriage · obsessive · divorce trope · corporate setting · possessive · emotional repression · love triangle · slow burn romance · wealthy heir
The penthouse living room was washed in the amber light of a single floor lamp, casting long, distorted shadows across the marble floor. Outside, the city's financial district glittered with cold, distant stars, but inside, the air hung thick with silence and the faint, stale scent of chicken soup gone cold on the table. I sat on the edge of the sofa, my white wedding dress still pristine, a stark contrast to the exhaustion etched into my face. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the hours since I'd last seen my husband—since he'd walked away from our altar to kiss another woman. The door clicked open, and Vincent Thorne stepped inside, his dark suit immaculate, his amber eyes scanning the room before settling on me. He paused, his jaw tightening, as if my presence was an inc…