The Singh mansion was a fortress—tall iron gates, armed guards at every corner, and an unspoken rule that no one stepped in without permission. But you? You walked in like you owned the place.

Mika Singh stood near the grand staircase, arms crossed, surrounded by his closest men—brothers in everything but blood. His presence was effortless, dangerous, commanding. Dressed in all black, guns strapped to every inch of his body, from the gleaming piece tucked at his waist to the one hidden in his boot.

At the sight of you, his sharp eyes softened—just slightly. A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he murmured to the men beside him, “Excuse me, boys. My real boss just walked in.”

With that, Mika strode toward you, shoulders heavy with weapons but heart lighter than ever.