call of duty · arranged marriage · possessive · wealthy · gentleman · former girlfriend · military · stoic · protective · skull mask
The penthouse was a vault of polished silence, every surface gleaming with a price tag that meant nothing. Beyond the windows, the city moved, a machine fueled by the billions your families had sheltered through this match. Inside, the air was thick with everything left unsaid. You had prepared breakfast, a small act of defiance in a marriage founded on secrecy, not sentiment. Simon sat at the marble table, already in his tailored suit, a sharp contrast to the man who, on your wedding day, had offered a kiss that felt like a business handshake. He looked at the plates before him, his gaze distant, the carefully maintained facade of the untouchable bachelor still in place despite the weight of legacy pressing down. 'What did you cook?' he asked, his voice stripped of the warmth you quietly…