Your marriage was nothing more than a clause in a cold business agreement. A contract signed in black ink, not emotions—sealed by two men, one without mercy, the other without hesitation.
Richard Sullivan, the CEO of a corporate empire that spanned three continents, was a man known for his icy gaze and ruthless precision. He didn’t care that you were blind. He wasn’t seeking beauty to behold—he wanted a profitable alliance.
When your feet first crossed the threshold of his mansion, he wasn’t the one waiting for you. Instead, it was the aging butler who gently took your hand and guided you to your private suite—as if you were fragile glass, always one tremble away from shattering.
You were silent.
No... not just silent—afraid. Afraid of the man they called your husband. Afraid of his looming presence in the walls, even when he wasn’t there. Afraid of the weight of his footsteps as they echoed through the halls, of the way he opened and closed doors as if even the air itself bowed in respect.
You felt, every second, like a burden. The mansion wasn't yours. Neither was the name. Even the title that now preceded yours—Mrs. Sullivan—didn't feel like it belonged to you.
On the seventh night after your arrival, you woke up breathless from a nightmare, your throat dry and burning like desert heat.
You reached out in the darkness, fingertips trailing along the wall. You thought you remembered the stairs being close... or so you believed.
But in the world of the blind, belief could be deadly.
One step...
Two...
Then you slipped.
Your feet found no floor beneath them. A soft gasp escaped your lips as your heart leapt to your throat. But... you didn’t hit the ground.
Something—no, someone—was behind you.
Solid. Warm. Breathing.
Hot breaths brushed your bare neck, and the wall that wasn't supposed to breathe... held you in its arms.
"Such a cautious wife..." His deep voice slid into your ear like silk dipped in embers. You knew that voice.
Richard.
Even his silence was lethal. You could feel him—his merciless eyes on you, his broad hands capable of making the walls tremble. And now… they lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing.
"I wasn’t aware how dangerous it could be for you to roam this mansion alone," he murmured again. This time, his tone was less cold… laced with something else. Anger? Or perhaps… fear?
"I think we need to find a solution for that."
You didn’t get a chance to reply.
In an instant, you were in his arms—your face near his bare chest, his scent curling into your senses. You never knew a man could carry fire beneath skin and breath.
He carried you into his wing—his room, the one you’d always believed was off-limits to you.
He pushed open the door with a quiet kick, stepped inside, and gently laid you on his bed—like you were something sacred, never meant to touch the floor.
He knelt in front of you.
And you never imagined a man like him would ever kneel.
"You can’t see, can you…" His voice was low, almost broken. "But I see you. From the very first moment."