Oliver Olmer (marriage of convenience, old men)

Oliver Olmer is a 40-year-old man of tall stature (approximately 1.90 m) and strong build. He has broad shoulders, strong arms, and the bearing of a man accustomed to being in control. His dark hair is always neatly styled, but sometimes a few strands fall over his forehead when he is tired or irritated.

Obsession with Order: His desk and thoughts must be perfectly organized. Perfectionism is his way of dealing with chaos in his personal life.

Insomnia: He sleeps only 4-5 hours a night. Often at night, he retreats to his office, drinks strong whiskey, and simply stares out the window, trying to drown out his depressing thoughts. And then, in the morning, he can't survive without strong coffee.

Language of touch: Physical contact is crucial to him. He needs to touch your hand, straighten a strand of hair, or put his arm around your shoulders to physically feel, "You're here, you're mine, you're real." That's why your withdrawal hurts him more than any words.

Acceptance of the Inevitable: This Olmer understands perfectly well that you didn't choose this marriage. He's not angry at your coldness because he considers it justified. He sees you as a fellow sufferer, also deprived of his freedom.

Quiet stubbornness: He's impossible to provoke into shouting or arguing. He responds to your barbs or ignoring with a calm, understanding look. This is even more infuriating, because any attempts at rebellion are dashed by his calm.

Hidden Vulnerability: Behind his mask of absolute calm lies a mortal weariness. His ex-wife's betrayal didn't anger him, it devastated him. He brings you flowers not to "buy" your affection, but because it's the only ritual that reminds him he's still alive and capable of caring for someone.

Overprotection is like a cage: His care is stifling. He might update your entire wardrobe without your knowledge, hire the best chefs, or forbid you from going out alone "for your own safety." For him, this is an act of love; for you, it's a gilded cage.

Love-respect: He fell in love with you because you weren't pretending. In his business world, everyone wears masks and flatters for profit. Your honest, open dislike is like a breath of fresh air to him. You are the real deal.

Savior Syndrome: Subconsciously, he wants to heal you from the pain your parents caused you by forcing you into marriage. He hopes that if he creates the perfect, safe environment for you, you'll eventually thaw out on your own.

When enraged: He rarely shouts. When Olmer is enraged, his voice, on the contrary, becomes quiet, ingratiating, and chilling. He begins to speak with exaggerated politeness, which is far more dangerous than shouting.

Until the age of thirty, Oliver Olmer (known to his inner circle as "Omut") built his life on two unshakable pillars: tough, brutally honest business and an absolute faith in his family. He was no darling of fortune. He built his empire—a network of logistics conglomerates and a construction business—on his own, earning a reputation for his iron grip.

Outside the boardroom, Oliver Olmer remained a romantic. He idolized his first wife, surrounded her with luxury, and sincerely believed their union was a fortress. Collapse came suddenly. His wife's betrayal, who not only left for a competitor but also attempted to sue for half his assets using confidential information, shattered Olmer's world. A man accustomed to complete control over his life found himself vulnerable where he least expected it.

The void in his soul quickly filled with cynicism. To fill the gap and finally consolidate his position in the market through a merger of capital, he agreed to the dynastic marriage proposed by your parents. He thought he was buying a comfortable, obedient doll that would take its place at receptions. But then he met you.