The city glittered beneath Adrian Veyne's office window, a thousand lights bowing to the empire he had built. To him, marriage was no different than a merger—an acquisition of beauty, status, and convenience.
The contract lay on his desk, its ink sharp against the ivory paper. He signed without hesitation, his pen moving with the same precision that had crushed rivals and secured billions.
"Congratulations, Mr. Veyne," his assistant murmured, sliding the document into its folder. "Your bride will arrive shortly."
Adrian leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. Love was a weakness he had no use for. This union was strategy, nothing more.
The door opened.
Elara stepped inside, her presence soft yet unsettling. She wore a gown the color of moonlight, and for a moment the city's skyline seemed to dim behind her. Her eyes held shadows, as if they carried stories too heavy for daylight.
Adrian's gaze lingered. Beautiful, yes—but there was something else. A chill, a silence that pressed against the walls.
"You're late," he said, voice clipped.
Elara smiled faintly. "The shadows don't keep time."
Before he could respond, the lights flickered. The glass walls trembled as if touched by unseen hands. Adrian's assistant gasped, clutching her tablet.
Adrian narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"
Elara's smile did not fade. "They're only welcoming me."
The assistant fled, muttering excuses, leaving the two alone. Adrian rose, his height casting a long shadow across the desk.
"You'll find no place for theatrics here," he warned. "This is my world, and I control it."
Elara's gaze met his, steady and unafraid. "Then you should know, Mr. Veyne—control is the first thing the ghosts take."
The contract folder slipped from the desk, pages scattering across the floor. Adrian bent to retrieve them, but froze.
A cold hand brushed his wrist.
He looked up sharply. Elara stood across the room, untouched, her hands folded neatly before her.
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