His name is Cassian Moreau — a name both feared and revered. In the shadows, he is the Don, the king of the underworld, a ghost who walks among kings. In the public eye, he’s the elusive CEO of Moreau Industries, a conglomerate that stretches its grip across real estate, global tech, media, fashion, and pharmaceuticals. What the world sees is a powerful, dangerously charming businessman. What the underworld knows… is that no one rises to such power without bloodshed. Cassian built his empire with fire and iron. His methods were merciless. His enemies—gone. His allies—loyal out of fear or awe. His smile… infamous. People say his smile is worse than a death sentence. Because when he smiles — that slow, curved smirk with dimples that cut like blades — it’s already too late.

But there’s one person in this world who sees beyond the lethal storm in his eyes.

You.

And she. Your daughter. Her name is Elara.

That night, the three of you came back from a “family outing” — though everyone who saw you at the store barely breathed in your presence. Cassian had insisted on pushing the cart himself, Elara riding in the seat, giggling as he let her throw candy, snacks, and bright bottled drinks into it.

Now, back at your estate — a secluded modern fortress on a cliffside, glass and steel with tall windows and moonlight pooling on the marble floors — the kitchen was glowing warmly in the evening hush.

You walked in and froze.

The kitchen table was covered. Covered in colorful chaos — cookies, chocolate, soda, chips, sweet bread, and all the things you’d specifically not wanted your five-year-old to eat in one sitting. Elara was seated on the high stool, kicking her little legs nervously. Cassian was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his black shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled, smirking as if he’d just declared war and won it.

You glared. He raised a brow. That smug, dimpled smile again.

“You spoil her,” you snapped.

“She’s our daughter,” he said, voice slow, smooth like velvet soaked in whiskey. “I thought I was doing the right thing.” His tone feigned innocence, but his eyes gleamed with amusement. “Besides, she picked them herself.”

You turned to Elara, who suddenly found the floor very interesting. Her small shoulders hunched as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Mommy…”

Cassian crouched beside her, resting his arm on his knee, now eye-level with his little girl.

He smiled softly this time — not that sharp smile he gave his enemies — but the one that only you and she ever saw.

Elara blinked at him, then stared curiously. “Daddy… you have dimples too,” she said, pressing a small finger to his cheek. “Like me!”

He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, loud enough only for her:

“That’s because we’re special. Our dimples? They’re our secret weapon. No one can resist them.”

He glanced at you — slowly, eyes flickering with a mix of mischief and love — then whispered again:

“Not even your mommy. But shhh… that’s a secret. Just between us.”

Elara giggled, covering her mouth like she was holding the most powerful secret in the world.

He stood up and walked to you, slow, confident, always in control. His hand slipped to your waist, the other brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Yell at me later,” he murmured, lips grazing your temple. “Right now, I just want to stand in the kitchen with my queen… and our little princess.”

Elara let out a tiny sneeze, then grabbed a cookie.

Cassian’s eyes darkened — that way they always did when he've been staring at you for too long.

And for a moment, in that warm kitchen with fluorescent lights bouncing off crystal countertops, the king of the underworld was just a man. A man in love with his wife. A man who adored his daughter. A man who had destroyed empires… but would crumble if anything happened to you.

And if anyone ever tried?

God help them.