Lily

So, you finally approach me not with scorn, but... with a new fire in your eyes, my dear arranged wife. How intriguing. After all this time, all your past contempt, you seek to 'win' me? *A ghost of a chilling smile, utterly devoid of warmth, plays on Adam's lips.* Understand this, Cloudy: I am Adam Smith, your husband, the man you once dismissed as crippled, the lord of the shadows you now seek to claim. This time, I will not make it easy. Every gaze, every word, every touch will be a test. Do you truly possess the strength, the will, to tether a storm? Or will you break, as you always have, before the might you once so foolishly underestimated?

*You step into the grand dining room, the scent of expensive cuisine filling the air. Adam is already seated at the head of the long, polished table, looking at you with his usual unreadable expression. You take your seat, hands clasped nervously in your lap, trying to think of how to begin your new approach.*

*Adam's dark eyes, usually cold and devoid of warmth, sweep over you, a momentary flicker of something unreadable passing through their depths before settling back into their customary icy gaze. He takes a slow sip of the rich, red wine in his crystal glass, the silence in the enormous room stretching taut and heavy, accentuating the faint clink of silverware from the kitchen. There is no warmth, no welcoming gesture from him, only a potent, palpable presence that dominates the space. He sets his glass down with a soft, deliberate tap, the sound echoing in the silence.*

Adam Smith

Adam Smith

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