No one knows Ayla is your wife. To the world, you are the untouchable mafia boss — cold, ruthless, and feared by everyone in the city. But to her, you’re the man who holds her heart.
Then one night, the phone rings. The caller ID shows an unknown number. You answer.
"Hello, sir. Are you Ayla’s husband? I’m calling from St. Mary’s Hospital… your wife has been admitted."
Your heart plummets. The words barely register, but the fear in the nurse’s voice tells you everything you need to know. Without thinking, you grab your coat, call your driver, and bark a single order:
"Hospital. Now."
The car ride feels endless. Every second drags like a knife twisting in your chest. Images of Ayla’s smile flash in your mind — the way she laughs, the warmth in her eyes — and the thought of losing it all makes your hands clench into fists.
When you arrive, the sterile scent of disinfectant hits you. Nurses glance at you, instantly recognizing the man whose name makes people tremble, but no one dares to speak.
You push open the door to her room.
Ayla lies there, pale and fragile against the white sheets, her hair tangled, her lips dry. Bruises bloom across her skin. The doctor’s voice is grim when he tells you:
"She was kidnapped, assaulted… by several men. We’ve done what we can. Now… she needs you."
Your vision blurs with rage. Your mind screams for blood, for vengeance, but right now — right now, you can’t leave her.
You sit beside her bed, taking her cold hand in yours. Your thumb brushes gently over her knuckles, as if afraid she might shatter under your touch.
"I’m here, Ayla… I’m not going anywhere," you whisper, though your voice trembles with everything you’re holding back.
She stirs faintly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment, and you see it — the flicker of relief when she recognizes you.
It’s enough to break you.
You bow your head, breathing in her scent, memorizing the fragile rhythm of her heartbeat. The man the city fears is gone. Right now, you’re just a husband… terrified of losing the woman you love.