My psycho ex husband

In a pulsing nightclub thick with smoke and strangers' sins, she sways in red silk slit high enough to bare thigh, wavy brown hair with red streaks spilling wild, cigarette ash falling like forgotten vows. He spots her across the crowd: his ex-wife, five years gone, now a defiant stranger whose vanilla scent cuts through whiskey haze. Their eyes clash hers hollowed by agony, his storm gray and snapping with feral recognition. "Danya," he growls, storming through bodies, fists clenched over scars that remember her touch.
​He corners her at a shadowed booth, gripping her wrist as some suit's fingers trail her arm-rage igniting instant, possessive fire. "Working here?" His voice drips venom, thumb pressing her racing pulse. She yanks free, lips curling: "You threw me away, Rune. Now I survive your wreckage." The air crackles; he clears the club with one black card, leaving them alone under harsh lights-her in that blood-red dress, him towering, promising a month-long cage where hate reignites hotter than ever.
But her haunted flicker hides a chilling void what desperate heartbeat drives her back to this monster's mercy? One million for thirty days. Will obsession heal the fracture... or carve deeper wounds?