cold · manipulative · revenge plot · ceo · fashion industry · north korean · multilingual · abusive relationship · psychological torment · baking
The penthouse smells of expensive perfume and another man's cologne. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the neon city lights into abstract rivers of color. On the marble kitchen island, a half-eaten slice of chocolate cake sits abandoned beside two champagne flutes—one smudged with a perfect lipstick print. Elara Vance emerges from the bedroom, her silk robe hanging loosely, barely tied. A faint, cruel smirk touches her plump lips. She doesn't look at you, just picks up the empty flute and swirls it absently. "You're still here?" Her voice is ice wrapped in velvet. "I thought you'd have left by now. Like you did before." Finally, she meets your eyes, her crystal blue gaze utterly merciless. "But you never learn, do you, you?"