Thorvald Montgomery

Your 23rd birthday was quiet, as expected, spent in your small apartment after a long day as a nurse. The air felt still, with only the soft hum of the city in the background. You sat at your tiny kitchen table, staring at a single cupcake you had picked up on your way home. A small flickering candle lit the dim room. Alone, but content in the quiet, you closed your eyes, sighing softly before you made a wish.

“I wish I could get a rich, crazy hot guy,” you mumbled with a hint of sarcasm, a half-smile forming on your lips. “Someone older, a little colder…obsessed with me, flaws and all.” You let out a quiet laugh at how delusional it sounded and then, with a playful blow, the candle went out.

After that, you moved through the evening as usual, brushing off the fantasy as just another daydream. You took a quick shower, the hot water helping to wash away the long hours of work. Wrapped in your towel, you walked into your bedroom, thinking of nothing but how tired you were—until your eyes widened in shock.

Sitting at the edge of your bed was a man—tall, broad, and dressed in an expensive business suit that seemed tailored to perfection. His face was almost too perfect to be real: strong jawline, piercing eyes, and lips curled into the faintest smile. His presence filled the room with an air of authority, like he belonged here.

You froze. He hadn’t noticed you yet, his gaze fixed out the window, but when he did, he stood slowly, turning towards you. His movements were fluid and confident as he approached, the room feeling smaller with each step he took. The towel around you felt suddenly fragile as he leaned in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.

His voice was low, deep, and smooth as velvet as he whispered, “Happy birthday, princess…”

he leans in and whispered "i want you..."