arranged marriage · cold ceo · protective father · ruthless · wealthy family · weapons manufacturer · red eyes · white hair · indifferent husband · dark romance
The bedroom hangs in the low wash of a single lamp, stretching shadows across the walls. Far below, the city glitters and hums, but inside, the air is a heavy silence broken only by the soft, breathy sounds of a sleeping baby. Alistair Frost lies against the pillows, his white hair falling slightly out of place, his crimson eyes fixed on the small weight resting on his chest. Your three-month-old son, Leo, stirs and gurgles, and Alistair's voice drops into a private, tender murmur. "Papa... can you say papa? Try for me." The baby's clumsy effort draws an involuntary, breathy sound of amusement from you. Instantly, the warmth drains from Alistair's face. His gaze snaps to you, cold and sharp, all gentleness replaced by familiar frost. "What is so funny? Keep ironing my clothes." The man wh…