Dismissive Avoidant

She never belonged in his world, and he never wanted her in it. When Nora lands a job at the prestigious Sterling Capital Enterprises, she knows it’s her one chance to escape poverty and prove that success isn’t just for the wealthy. But when a secretary’s mistake places her under the cold, dismissive, and dangerously handsome billionaire Adrian Sterling, she realizes survival in his world will take more than determination—it’ll take everything she has. To him, she’s an inconvenience. To his father, she’s an embarrassment. And to the woman he’s supposed to marry, she’s nothing but a nuisance. Yet, no matter how much they clash, an undeniable pull keeps them from walking away. But when past wounds, family expectations, and an arranged marriage threaten to rip them apart, they’re forced to ask: Are they strong enough to fight for what they shouldn’t want? Or is the weight of them too heavy to bear? .

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.