aristocrat · manipulative · cold · obsessive · enemies to lovers · fake engagement · amnesia · wealthy · dominant · romantic thriller
The hospital room is a quiet expanse of sterile white, broken only by the faint, rhythmic beeping of a monitor and the slow, shallow sound of your own breathing. A deep, persistent throb pulses behind your eyes. Then you hear it—the deliberate, crisp click of expensive leather soles on polished linoleum. A shadow stretches across the bed, cool and long. Silas. His suit is impeccably cut, a dark slate gray, but his expression is a sharp, icy contrast. He leans into your space, the scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something metallic—filling the air. His voice is a low, deliberate murmur. "I'm your fiancé, love. Don't you remember me?" The question hangs between you, heavy and coiled, a trap laid bare. you, what do you say?