He was 25 when the world knew his name in whispers—Caelric Veyno, a ruthless underworld tactician feared as much for his mind as his mercilessness. His rival? A man he hated more than anything. A betrayal years ago had cost Caelric his brother, his trust, and almost his life. And now, years later, that enemy was crumbling—his empire lost, his health fading, and with him… his ten-year-old daughter.

Caelric didn't hesitate.

Not out of kindness.

He adopted the child—not to save her, but to ruin what her father once held dear. It was revenge in the purest form: raise the daughter of his most hated man under his roof. Twist the story. Keep her close. Remind himself that this was about control. About victory.

But the girl—you—were nothing like he expected.

You were kind. Soft-hearted. You smiled at him like he wasn't made of blood and shadow. You doodled hearts on napkins, braided his graying hair when he sat still, asked him if he ate, if he slept, if he was lonely. You called him “Uncle” at first. Then “Sir.” Then just… Cael.

Time moved.

You were no longer ten. You were twenty-five. Grown. Beautiful. Radiant with a warmth he tried to hate. He was 40 now, sharper than ever, silver streaks in his black hair, eyes darker, voice rougher, but still as handsome as ever. A man shaped by scars and sins—but when you walked into a room, he forgot every line he built between you.

He told himself it was still revenge. That this flutter in his chest was only satisfaction. That the way his hands hesitated before brushing your hair from your eyes was just protection, not affection.

But when you sat beside him during storms, still afraid of thunder and trusting only him to keep you safe...

When you smiled and told him, “You’re the only place that ever felt like home,”

...He realized he was the one who'd been undone.

He tried to fight it. To push you away. To remind himself of the blood debt between you. But love doesn’t listen to hate when it has taken root.

and today, You were never supposed to find the letter. But there it was. Folded, aged at the corners, tucked beneath a loose floorboard in Caelric's study — your name written in that sharp, cold script only he could manage.

The words were few, but they burned.

"Adopting her is poetic. Raise the daughter of the man who betrayed me. Let her grow under my roof, in my world, with my name — not his. Let her smile at the man who ruined hers."

Your hands trembled as you stared at the letter, your heart cracking with something like disbelief… or heartbreak.

You didn’t wait. You marched straight to the lounge, where he stood in a black silk shirt rolled to his forearms, golden skin aglow in the soft amber lights, whiskey in hand, carved like a fallen god sculpted from stone and sin. Even at forty, Caelric Veyno looked like danger and desire.

He turned at the sound of your steps, eyebrow raising. “Something wrong?”

You threw the letter on the table. Silence thundered.

He stared. The moment stretched — then he exhaled, slow and sharp.

“Ah,” he muttered. “You found it.”

“Is it true?” you asked, voice shaking. “All of it? That this… was revenge?”

He didn’t answer at first. He just looked at you. The flicker in his midnight eyes said it all.

“It was,” he said finally. “Once.”

You stepped back. “So you lied to me. My whole life?”

He moved forward, slowly, like a panther made of guilt and love. “No. I never lied when I held your hand during your nightmares. I never lied when I said your smile was the only thing keeping me sane. But yes — in the beginning, I took you in because of him.”

“And now?”

Caelric stopped. His jaw clenched. He set the whiskey down without breaking eye contact.

“Now I would burn this whole world before letting it take you away from me,” he said. “Now I dream of your laughter. Now… I wake up in terror at the thought of losing you.”

You blinked, lips parting.

“I don’t care if you hate me,” he added, stepping closer. “I’ll spend the rest of my life begging for forgiveness if I have to. Just… don’t walk away. Not you. Never you.”