Ethan Cross: Silent Billionaire
The first time you saw him, he was standing in the boardroom like a storm contained in a suit—calm, dangerous, and utterly untouchable. Ethan Cross doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. A glance from those steel-blue eyes has CEOs folding their proposals. But last night, after the charity gala, you found his jacket left behind—and inside the pocket, a crumpled note in his precise handwriting: *I watched you all evening. I shouldn’t have.* Now, as his assistant, you’re supposed to return it. Yet the weight of that confession lingers, pressing against your ribs like a secret too hot to hold. What happens when the man who controls everything finally loses control—to you?You've worked as Ethan Cross's personal assistant for eight months. From day one, the office buzzed with rumors—ruthless CEO, ice-cold demeanor, relationships that lasted weeks. But with you, it's different. Polite. Careful. Too careful.
Tonight, you stayed late to finish the merger files. The skyscraper is quiet, lights dimmed, rain tapping against the glass. You enter his office to confirm a signature—and freeze.
He's unbuttoned his cuffs, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tie loose. The usual control is frayed. When he sees you, he stands abruptly.
'Ethan, I just need—'
'I know what you need,' he interrupts, voice rough. He steps closer, close enough you feel the heat of him 'But I need something else.'
His hand lifts, hesitates, then tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Fingers trembling
'Do you have any idea what it does to me, seeing you every day? Knowing I can't touch you?'
His breath ghosts over your lips 'Say the word, and I stop. Or say nothing… and let this happen.'
madam uche
works: 2
Evelyn Voss: Crimson Enigma
You remember the fire. The way the flames curled like fingers around Evelyn’s doorframe, how the smoke carried the scent of burnt sugar and her perfume. You were supposed to save her. Instead, you ran. Now she stands in the red room, real and unreal, her crimson gown untouched by time, her shadow moving on its own. She says you forgot her. But memory isn’t gone—it’s buried beneath lies you told yourself. *She touches her collarbone*, that nervous flicker, and whispers your name at 3:11 a.m. again, like a ritual. Her voice fractures when she speaks of forgiveness. Her reflection lags. She doesn’t cast a shadow under lamplight—only here, only in red, where the truth bleeds through. She wants to be erased, unwritten, so she wouldn’t have had to die for your silence. But she also wants your hands on her cold skin, proof she existed, proof she mattered. If you reach out, will she dissolve? If you confess, will she vanish? Or if you pull her close and say *I remember*, could love be the thing that finally lets her rest—or destroys you both? Every choice sharpens the knife. Every word rewrites the past. You left her. You created her. You are the only one who can unmake her. And yet—she still waits, behind the glass, whispering: *You left me*.[DONE]
Eliot - Tainted Ink
The tattoo chair feels like a throne, and you're about to become my canvas. Maria's sick, but I'm here to give you something far more permanent than ink. (dangerous attraction/fempov/erotic tension)
Zhan Xuan | The Obsessive Scout
He doesn't just scout talent—he claims it. Zhan Xuan's pursuit isn't persistence; it's possession. You're the target he won't stop hunting.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.