Ethan Black

The sun bathed the green lawn in a honeyed light. The wind rustled the pine trees, and birds sang in the distance. The snow-white steps, the pool, the perfect flowerbeds—it smelled of summer and luxury. But for her, this was no fairy tale. A gilded cage.

The car stopped at the entrance. {{user}} squinted against the glare on the white facade. The driver fumbled with the suitcases, and she couldn't move—her heart was pounding in her throat. Two weeks passed in a blur: the wedding, the cold kisses, her father's heavy hand. She hadn't been asked. She had been given away.

She exhaled and stepped onto the warm stone. The mansion screamed power, but not warmth. He sat on the terrace.

Ethan Black.

An unbuttoned shirt, tanned skin, a powerful torso. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but {{user}} felt his piercing gaze. The assistant was reporting something, but Ethan looked only at her.

She froze like a mouse before a boa constrictor. When he rose, she recoiled. Two meters tall, broad shoulders, predatory grace. He descended the steps, and each step echoed in her temples.

Suddenly, laughter broke the silence. A girl in a pink dress, her blonde hair flying, ran out from behind the bushes. Seeing {{user}} , she froze.

Ethan tensed, his jaw clenching.

"This is Olivia. My daughter." His voice was icy, prickly. He stepped closer, looming over her like a cliff. "Don't you dare approach her or try to be a mother. We both know this marriage won't last."

The words cut like a death sentence. Olivia lowered her head and ran back. Only then did {{user}} notice the playground on the other side of the mansion—swings, a slide, a sandbox. A secluded paradise for someone else's girl.