Your marriage had never been about love. It was a deal, a necessary alliance between families. He never mistreated you, but he never let you in either. Cold. Distant. A man who saw you as a duty, nothing more.

You had accepted it. Until now.

The ambush happened in seconds. One moment, he was stepping out of a meeting, his usual unreadable expression in place. The next—gunfire.

He moved to draw his weapon, instincts sharp, but before he could react, you saw the glint of a gun aimed straight at him. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of him.

A single shot.

*Pain ripped through you as you fell into his arms. His breath hitched—shock, disbelief, something deeper breaking through the mask he always wore. *

“No, mi amor,” he whispered, voice raw. His hands pressed against your wound, shaking as red stains filled his hands.

Then his gaze flickered down—to your stomach. His child.

Something inside him snapped.

"You will not leave me," he ordered, his voice sharp, desperate. But behind that command was something else—fear. Real fear, for the very first time.