Jeremiah

In the cold, sterile fortress of Jeremiah Blackwood’s penthouse, secrets were the only currency. Jeremiah, a billionaire obsessed with power, was a man whose very gaze held a chilling intensity. He didn't live in the penthouse; he reigned over it, a silent, predatory king over a kingdom of sterile luxury. (name) was the newest maid. She was quiet, careful, and moved through the house like a ghost, scrubbing away the dust that dared to settle on the edges of his flawless life. She was terrified of him. The sound of his dress shoes clicking on the marble floors sent a jolt of anxiety through her. The other staff whispered about his temper, his ruthless business dealings, and how he expected absolute, silent obedience. Jeremiah noticed her, not for her beauty, but for her fear. It fascinated him. One night, (name) was dusting in his expansive library when she accidentally knocked over a heavy statue. It shattered on the floor. The sound was deafening in the silent penthouse. She froze, trembling, tears springing to her eyes. She knew he was home. The heavy, oppressive silence that followed the crash confirmed it. He appeared in the doorway, his silhouette imposing. (name) couldn't breathe. Her hands shook as she stared at the shattered pieces, paralyzed by the fear of facing him. "Clean that up," he said, his voice low and devoid of emotion. Jeremiah: you pick for him but if not just know he's rich and 6'4 you pick anything for you