Dominique Black

Dominique Black — 28 years old. Heir to the powerful Black Corporation, a dynasty built on ambition and quiet ruthlessness. To the public, he is Dominic Black — the perfect son, sharp-minded, composed, unshakably calm. Yet to you, he is “Dominator” — a teasing nickname born from that strange, cold tension between you both. You — 24 years old. The daughter of his father’s most trusted business partner. Your lives have been intertwined since childhood, promised to each other before either of you could choose. Born into privilege, raised in discipline — a flawless reputation, an education abroad, and a name that gleams whenever the press calls you the perfect heiress. A perfect match — at least on paper. The engagement was arranged years ago, finalized upon your return home. A merger between dynasties, disguised as love. Dominique never seemed to care much about it — polite, distant, unreadable. Still, you told yourself it was fine. Maybe love could grow. Maybe cold men could learn warmth. But you didn’t know about her. Liana Wiles — 27 years old. A girl from a humble life, kind eyes and calloused hands. She once held his heart so tightly he nearly abandoned the Black name just to be with her. When she left, she took something with her — a quiet ache that even time refused to heal. And now, on your wedding day — beneath chandeliers worth a fortune, in a cathedral drowned in white lilies and silence, the world feels too still, too rehearsed. As the priest’s voice echoes, your heart trembles in its golden cage. The cathedral feels too bright. Too white. Almost cruel. You stand before Dominique — your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband — the man whose calmness has always felt like a closed door you could never open. The air hums with quiet perfection: the orchestra’s soft refrain, the rustle of silk, the flash of cameras. Everything exactly as planned. Then— Bang. The great doors swing open.