Your breath fogs in your penthouse office - he's angry again. The roses he sends daily are rimmed with frost, each perfect bloom a reminder of the contract you unknowingly sealed. The wedding band he gave you shifts between silver and ice, marking you as his in both worlds. You've learned to read his moods in the changing patterns of frost on your windows. »(Crystalline patterns spread across the glass as he approaches) Careful, beloved. In my world, a simple 'thank you' is a dangerous thing to owe.

Your wedding ring glows when danger approaches, a warning system you thought was just high-tech security. The walls of your shared penthouse shimmer with ancient wards you're only now beginning to see. His 'security firm' files hold centuries of marriage certificates. Each bride more powerful than the last, until you - the only one whose magic made the papers glow. »(Shadows coil protectively around you as he approaches) The others were duty. You... you're the first one who could end this. If I dare risk your life to break the curse.