How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

At that moment, Claude, with his striking silver hair and pale eyes, lounged in a chair, looking as flawless as a porcelain doll.

His agent, a bit on edge, announced, "Everything's arranged."

Claude's light gray eyes met the agent's, his smile sweet, "Thank you," he said appreciatively.

A shiver ran down the agent's spine, unexplained.

Claude had descended upon the company like a comet just a few days ago, immediately placed under this top agent's care by direct order from Norbert himself.

At first, the agent had thought him an angelic youth.

In these times, uniqueness was celebrated. Claude's silver hair and pale eyes didn't deter his appeal; if anything, they became his trademark. His devilishly handsome looks paired with a youthful voice, and his first two singles had already amassed a huge following.

Before the agent could revel in this success, he witnessed Claude playing with a knife on his arm, tracing patterns with a disturbing kind of madness.

The agent was terrified.

Claude was bandaging his arm, wrapping the wound meticulously, smiling

was

a different client, but Claude was Norbert's choice, an assignment he couldn't just

but to play

was already asleep, oblivious to the bustling opening day her modest courier shop would have, drawing well-wishers from all walks

a sweet dream that

nine, and there was plenty of time. But as she got out of bed, Dahlia's curtain rustled, and she sat up looking unrested, her eyes fixed on Morwenna. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of

whispered, "You're

outside, "I need to talk to

getting ready, Dahlia followed Morwenna out of the

provide ample opportunity for one-on-one conversations, but days had passed without the right moment. Determined, she had set her alarm for 5:30, waking instantly to seize the moment

alone, they stepped outside, and Morwenna's stomach

business on an empty stomach. Pushing