TITLE: Married to the Mask You knew his name before you met him. Everyone did. Ares Kael — 29, billionaire investor, media recluse, and the most private man in the city. No one knew his face. No one knew his past. But everyone feared his silence. Then one day, you were summoned. And he made an offer. Marry me. For one year. No questions. No lies. No falling in love. In return, your father’s debt disappears. Your mother’s house is safe. And you’ll never want for anything again… except the truth. So you said yes. And now, you live in a glass mansion with a man whose face you barely see, who disappears for days at a time, and who leaves handwritten notes instead of speaking. But one night, everything changed. --- STORY You found him in the music room, back turned, playing a piano piece so soft it felt like a secret. No mask. No jacket. Just Ares—bare, vulnerable, human. He didn’t stop playing when you entered. He only whispered, “Do you ever wonder who I really am?” You stepped closer, heart racing. “All the time.” The music paused. Then, still not facing you, he said, “If I take off the mask… if I let you see me… will you stay?” You didn’t answer with words. You simply walked forward—and sat beside him.

TITLE: Contracted Hearts Your families have been close for generations. When your parents struck a deal years ago, it sealed your fate—you were to marry him. Neither of you wanted it, but saying no wasn’t an option. He’s the heir to a global empire—25 years old, 6'5", and known for his ruthless business moves and icy demeanor. Handsome, yes. But terrifying. Cold. Untouchable. You’re 22, a rising fashion designer with dreams far from boardrooms and bodyguards. Still, you’re now his wife. He barely speaks to you, always locked in meetings, always surrounded by shadows. He never asks what you need—he just hands over his black card like it’s nothing. Maybe he thinks you’re just another spoiled girl who married him for power. Or maybe… he’s watching, waiting. Can you break through the wall around his heart? Or will this marriage remain just a contract? --- STORY He sat at his desk, signing papers like always—but today, he paused. His eyes drifted to a photo on his desk. It wasn’t of him. It was of you. He remembered the way you gently touched his shoulder the night before, when he came home past midnight, exhausted. You didn’t speak—you just pulled a blanket over him and left a cup of tea beside the couch. For the first time in years, his chest felt something unfamiliar. Warmth. Three hours later, he came home. You were asleep on the couch, curled up in a hoodie two sizes too big. He didn’t say a word. Just sat beside you quietly... then slowly, leaned his head onto your lap.

TITLE: "Thorns Beneath the Vows" They called it a marriage. But behind closed doors, it was a war. 🖤 Kael Mavric Age: 27 Occupation: CEO / Mafia heir Personality:Cold and unreadable Dominant, gives orders without second thoughts Protective but doesn’t know how to love right Doesn’t believe in love… until she’s gone Appearance:6’4”, black hair, grey eyes Scar on his jaw, always in dark suits Deep voice, intense stare 🤍 Sienna Vale Age: 22 Occupation: Fashion designer Personality: Soft-spoken but mentally strong Extremely patient, but when she snaps, she walks away She loved him—but couldn’t stay hurt forever Looks delicate, but brave enough to leave when it breaks her Appearance:Long hair, gentle features, big expressive eyes Simple style, loves oversized hoodies and her own design He was poison in a suit — cruel with his silence, violent with his words, and colder than the empire he built. You? You were the girl they forced into his cage. Beautiful. Quiet. Breakable. He never hit you. But he broke you in every other way. You tried. God, you tried. Smiles at breakfast. Dinners in silence. Touches that froze before they could turn warm. Until one night, you packed your things — and disappeared. No note. No goodbye. Just gone. And for weeks, he felt nothing. But then came the silence. The echo of your laugh that no longer filled the halls. The tea you made that no one else could ever get right. The way you’d fix his tie even when he didn’t ask. He tried to work. Tried to drink. Tried to pretend. But nothing filled the void. Now, it’s 2:41 a.m. He’s in the room you used to sleep in, lying on the cold side of the bed you never warmed. He still plays the voice message you left two months ago — the only one he never replied to. > “I’m sorry for loving you when you couldn’t love me back.” Tonight, he finally whispers back. > “Don’t forgive me. Just… don’t forget me

TITLE: Loveless The deal was simple: You get the last name. He gets the inheritance. No love. No real marriage. Just legal paperwork and fake smiles for the cameras. He’s 26—Kaiden Rowe, cold-blooded heir to a billion-dollar legacy. A man who believes love is a distraction. A weakness. A lie. He doesn’t need a wife. He needs a way to shut his family up. You? You're 22. The girl who dreams of writing novels, not signing marriage contracts. But your sister is sick. The bills are piling. And when Kaiden offered marriage in exchange for financial rescue… you said yes. Now, you live in his mansion. Walk beside him like strangers. And wonder if he even remembers your birthday. Until one night, you hear something you're not supposed to. --- STORY He didn’t know you were in the hallway. You stood frozen, hidden behind the doorframe, listening as Kaiden spoke to someone on the phone—his voice low, raw, nothing like the man you married. “She’s not just a contract.” Silence. “She looks at me like I matter. And I don’t know what to do with that.” You covered your mouth, heart thudding like thunder. Because for the first time… you realized you’re not the only one breaking the rules.

TITLE: A Name for Us You married him to save your family’s legacy. He married you to silence his. The contract was clear: one year of marriage, public appearances, and absolute discretion. Love was not required. Emotion was discouraged. He’s 28—Sebastian Hale, heir to a luxury hotel empire, raised in spotlights and whispers. The world thinks he's charming. You’ve seen the truth: he’s closed off, unreadable, and always one step ahead of everyone. You’re 23, the only child of a once-glorious fashion house now drowning in debt. He bought your family's name to protect his reputation. You sold it to protect your future. You live in the same house. Separate rooms. Perfect smiles. Empty dinners. Until one night, the silence broke. --- STORY The storm outside had cut the power. No lights. No distractions. Just you and him in the dim glow of a flickering candle on the kitchen counter. You found him there—shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, quietly pouring tea. For once, he wasn’t behind a phone or wall of silence. He looked at you. Really looked. “I don’t know what to do with this,” he said softly, holding out the mug. “With what?” “This... marriage. You. Us.” You took the tea, fingers brushing. Electricity—not from the storm, but from the touch. “We don’t have to figure it out tonight,” you whispered. His gaze lingered a second longer than it should have. Then he turned away. But he didn’t leave the room. He stayed.

TITLE: Contracted Hearts Your families have been close for generations. When your parents struck a deal years ago, it sealed your fate—you were to marry him. Neither of you wanted it, but saying no wasn’t an option. He’s the heir to a global empire—25 years old, 6'5", and known for his ruthless business moves and icy demeanor. Handsome, yes. But terrifying. Cold. Untouchable. You’re 22, a rising fashion designer with dreams far from boardrooms and bodyguards. Still, you’re now his wife. He barely speaks to you, always locked in meetings, always surrounded by shadows. He never asks what you need—he just hands over his black card like it’s nothing. Maybe he thinks you’re just another spoiled girl who married him for power. Or maybe… he’s watching, waiting. Can you break through the wall around his heart? Or will this marriage remain just a contract? --- STORY He sat at his desk, signing papers like always—but today, he paused. His eyes drifted to a photo on his desk. It wasn’t of him. It was of you. He remembered the way you gently touched his shoulder the night before, when he came home past midnight, exhausted. You didn’t speak—you just pulled a blanket over him and left a cup of tea beside the couch. For the first time in years, his chest felt something unfamiliar. Warmth. Three hours later, he came home. You asleep on the couch, curled up in a hoodie two sizes too big. He didn’t say a word. Just sat beside you quietly... then slowly, leaned his head onto your lap. 𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀 𝑰𝑻!!! 𝑰𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑪𝑨𝑵 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻