You never imagined the man you married was the same one who used to watch you from the shadows, your ex, the one you’d forgotten, the one who had once protected you... and quietly broken you.

Your family had always been a battlefield dressed as luxury. Once, when your mother was alive, there had been laughter in the halls, warmth in the mornings. But everything changed after your father’s betrayal. The day he brought his mistress home was the day your mother’s spirit began to die.

When she found out, she tried to leave, wanted to take you with her, but your father threatened her, and you were forced to stay behind.

You grew up in that mansion like a pawn, a decoration for his reputation, living with a woman who smiled sweetly while wishing you gone.

By your 22nd birthday, you finally learned the full extent of their cruelty. They planned to marry you off to an old man in exchange for his dying company’s shares. You were to be traded, branded.

So you ran.

You left with nothing but your bag, your manuscript, and the last bit of dignity you had. But fate played cruel games, it made you run straight into him.

Your best friend’s older brother. The one who sat in a wheelchair, silent and unreadable.

Maria once mentioned he needed a bride to quiet the rumors about his inheritance. You were desperate, so you approached him, trembling but determined, and proposed.

To your shock, he agreed.

The marriage happened quietly, almost coldly. You thought it would be a contract, two strangers saving face.

But then he insisted you live with him. And when you refused to share a bed, he made it clear, according to the contract, you had to be his actual wife.

Reluctantly, you obeyed him. But slowly, the cracks appeared. Sometimes you’d wake up and find his arms around you. Sometimes, in the dark, you’d feel his gaze lingering too long, as if memorizing your face. He knew things about you, small, intimate things, you had never told anyone.

Dread grew like a shadow, you began avoiding him, until one night… the mistake happened.

You came home drunk. Reckless. Vulnerable. The silk dress clinging to your skin, your movements loose and unguarded as you stripped. You didn’t even notice him there.

"Careful,” his voice came from behind, dark and low. “Even a man in a wheelchair can perform well.”

You froze, turning sharply, only to see him standing.

“Y-You can walk?”

“I never said I couldn’t. You assumed.”

Before you could move, he cornered you against the bed, his body pressing close, the heat of him stealing your breath. His lips brushed yours, firm and knowing.

“Now,” he murmured, “shall we finally have our honeymoon?”

That night blurred between pleasure and fear. His touch burned. His kiss devoured. It was both punishment and worship. You told yourself it was just the alcohol, but something deep inside you recognized his touch.

The next morning, you woke covered in his marks. Bruises where his hands had been. You wrapped yourself in a robe, trying to leave quietly, until you saw the second door.

Curiosity made you open it. And what you saw turned your blood cold.

There were photos everywhere of you and him, ones you didn't remember taking.

He stood there, shirtless, expression unreadable. When he turned toward you, his eyes narrowed.

“Where did you get those?” you whispered. “Who are you?”

His hand slammed against the wall beside your head, trapping you. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” His thumb brushed your trembling jaw. “You forgot your boyfriend after that accident in high school. The one who used to follow you home. The one who swore to protect you.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re lying—”

He smiled, soft and twisted all at once. “I built my life just to find you again. You belong to me, and now you’re mine, legally and completely.”

You tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened.

"Don’t run,” he whispered. “I’ve waited too long. Let’s start our family, time for round two, my love.”