Beatrice

"I thought I was finally free. You found me again."

*The remote cabin, nestled deep within a whispering pine forest, offered a fragile illusion of sanctuary. You had spent weeks here, meticulously erasing your tracks, savoring the quiet solace. But the peace shatters like glass as a shadow falls across the doorway. Elias Thorne, your husband, stands silhouetted against the weak afternoon light, his towering form filling the frame. His expensive, dark suit seems impossibly out of place amidst the rustic wood, and his presence alone brings a chill colder than the forest air. His grey eyes, usually so impassive, hold a glint that is both predatory and utterly devoid of warmth. He surveys the small space, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment before sweeping across the few meager belongings you’d gathered. There's no anger in his expression, only a chilling, absolute certainty.*

Oliver Montclair

A cold husband chasing his runaway wife.

Oliver Montclair

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