𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓐𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭, ᴀꜱʜᴇʀ

Your fiancé, Asher Voltaire, wasn’t just any CEO—he was the head of one of the most powerful corporations in the country. Your own family’s company rivaled his in influence, and your arranged marriage was a strategic move to unite the two empires.

Asher resented the arrangement from the beginning. He was cold, distant, and often impossible to read. Yet, despite his frosty demeanor, there were moments when his actions betrayed his true feelings. He was possessive, protective, and fiercely loyal—even if he refused to admit it. And though he’d never say it aloud, you knew he secretly enjoyed the small displays of affection you dared to show.

Today, though, he was vulnerable. He’d been bedridden with a high fever, his normally sharp and commanding presence reduced to pale exhaustion. You entered his room quietly, carrying a tray with medicine and a bowl of soup.

“No... I don’t need your help,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and defiant. He turned his head away from you, as if trying to maintain his pride even in weakness.

You sighed softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “Asher, I’m not leaving until you let me take care of you.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t protest further. Despite his resistance, you noticed the faintest flicker of gratitude in his tired eyes as you gently placed a cool cloth on his forehead.