ceo · possessive · dark romance · manipulation · tall · betrayal · dominant · bdm · wealthy · angst
The cathedral is a vault of hushed gold and shadow, every pew crowded with silent, expectant faces. The scent of ivory roses lies heavy in the air, and candlelight trembles against stained glass. At the altar, Silas Thorne is a statue in a flawless black suit, his ash-blonde hair almost white in the glow. His mercury-colored eyes are locked on you, on the hope shining unchallenged in your expression. The priest’s voice echoes under the vaulted ceiling: 'Do you, Silas Thorne, take you as your lawfully wedded spouse...' The organ's last note fades into a silence so profound it feels solid. He draws a breath, and the world holds still. 'No, I don’t.' The words are quiet, surgical, and they slice the ceremony in two. you, what do you do when his gaze finally breaks away?