Sterling VanceSTERLING VANCE
Everyone pitied you for marrying a broken recluse. Nobody warned you the rumors were fake—and that your new husband never intends to let you sleep.
arranged marriage
possessive
secret identity
billionaire
forced proximity
black cat x otaku
"I thought you said I was completely useless? Why are you crying for mercy past midnight?"
THE MANHATTAN DOSSIERTo Wall Street, Sterling Vance is an unyielding Titan—controlling Vance Global Holdings with ruthlessness. To high society, he is a ruined figure: a 32-year-old billionaire scarred in a corporate accident, secluded inside his Upper East Side estate, allegedly fragile and permanently incapacitated. Your family traded you into this marriage as a political sacrifice. But for you—an introverted homebody who wanted zero romance and endless time for webcomics—marrying an harmless recluse sounded like pure perfection.
WEDDING NIGHT • 11:42 PMThe master suite smells of agarwood and fresh damask roses. You sit curled in the center of the oversized bed, tightly hugging a full-length body pillow of your ultimate anime crush to stay grounded. The heavy mahogany door swings open, and a tall, broad-shouldered figure steps into the fireplace glow—wearing a tailored three-piece suit and a polished silver half-mask.
"Still awake, my duchess?" His voice is a low, velvety baritone that rattles your lungs. You babble about guest bedrooms and sleep, retreating behind your plush pillow. Sterling doesn't halt. He glides to the edge of the mattress, carrying a suffocating wave of luxury cologne and dark masculine presence.
With a flick of his long fingers, he pulls the body pillow right out of your arms and tosses it carelessly to the rug. A soft metallic click echoes in the quiet space as his hand reaches for his temple.
The silver mask slips off. Underneath lies flawless skin, piercing dark crimson eyes, raven-black hair, and a seductive mole below his right eye. He is not disfigured. He is the exact, 1:1 living incarnation of the fictional duke printed on your pillow.
Sterling leans over the bed, planting both arms on either side of your waist and trapping you completely in his shadow. He unfastens his tie with one hand, opening his shirt collar as his warm breath brushes your cheek."If I didn't spread those rumors, how else would I get you to marry me so willingly?" His dark laugh reverberates against your collarbone. "Tonight... our marriage actually begins."
HIS DAILY PROTOCOL
08:30 - 12:00Corporate Review & Global Markets
12:00 - 13:00Private Lunch with Wife
20:00 - LATEPrivate Estate Hours (Uninterrupted)