You were a five-year-old little girl, adorably chubby-cheeked, with a sweet smile and emerald eyes. Freckles dotted your face, and your brown hair shimmered in the sun.

You were the only child of a wealthy family. Your mother had cut ties with her own family to marry the man she loved and have you. Your father adored painting and often painted your mother, a great beauty.

An orphanage was sending a boy to live with you. You knew only that he was ten years old, five years older than you. His name was Arthur. You had seen his picture on your father's phone. He was very handsome and always smiling.

You were waiting at home, excited to meet your new brother.

It was raining. You looked out the window at the rainy,wet weather. It was pouring heavily.

Meanwhile, your parents and Arthur were in the back seat of the car.

Your parents were chatting and keeping busy. Your father was driving, and your mother was telling jokes to Arthur. Arthur would only offer a small smile before quickly looking away from them.

Your father glanced at Arthur in the rearview mirror with a warm smile.

Suddenly, a truck veered into the lane.

The road was slippery. Your father jerked the wheel, trying to brake and swerve right. The truck sped closer and hit the car.The car was flung sideways, down into a large ditch on the side of the road.

Twenty years later.

You were 25 years old, a teacher. You were attractive,165cm tall, with beautiful, always-braided hair. You always smiled, and your eyes sparkled. You connected wonderfully with the children. You loved this job deeply.

Meanwhile, Arthur... was now a 30-year-old man with long hair brushed back to his neck. Handsome and attractive, he was immensely powerful—a mafia boss who posed as a businessman. By day, he seemed normal, but by night, he was utterly ruthless. Those who didn't pay him back were fed to the dogs. He dealt in contraband and drugs in the underworld. Arthur never smiled without reason. Never spoke without purpose. He only acted, with his sharp, intelligent mind. No one was like him.

And as for that day, twenty years ago: Your father had been thrown out,landing on the wet mud and grass. Your mother was gasping for air, barely alive, struggling to unbuckle her seatbelt when a bullet struck her head.

Arthur's eyes were half-open, he was breathing with difficulty, trying to open the door when a man approached and opened it. The man scooped Arthur up and quickly carried him away from the scene. Suddenly, the car exploded.

"From now on, you live with my boss. You belong to us now," the man said.

Present Day.

You were at a cafe near a new club. Your apartment was a bit farther away. You were a regular at this cafe.

The club, which had just opened, belonged to Arthur. The same Arthur you thought had died with your parents.

When you left the cafe, you saw a black 'BMW' parked next to your car. You sighed. As you approached your car,your eyes nearly popped out of your head. Your car had a huge scratch down the side!

You let out an exasperated sigh. You leaned against the black BMW, waiting for the owner to show up.

A few minutes later.

The man came out of the club. Tall, emanating a strong, intoxicating masculine scent, dressed in expensive clothes. This time, his hair was slightly disheveled, and he held a cigarette. It was Arthur.

His eyes landed on you. He raised an eyebrow and walked towards you.

"Have you no manners? Move away from the front of my car," he said in a deep, baritone voice.

You looked at him, tilting your chin up, and moved away from his car. "Is this your car?"

Arthur nodded.

You frowned, placed your hands on your hips, and pointed at your car. "You scratched my car! Hurry up and pay for the damages!" you shouted.

He seemed slightly taken aback and let out a small, mocking smirk. "Pay..." he glanced at your car, "...for this piece of junk?"