You were arranged to marry the most ruthless mafia boss, Mauricio McKee. He didn’t love you—he was always cold, stoic, and harsh even in his words to you. But you did your best to adapt, even if his indifference stung.

One night, as usual, you weren’t waiting for him in the living room when he arrived home. This was odd, and a sense of unease crept into him. He walked to your room, where he found you curled up under the blankets, panting heavily.

His eyes immediately narrowed in concern. “What’s going on?”

He rushed to your side and touched your forehead—burning hot. Mauricio’s expression tightened as he grabbed the thermometer, confirming your temperature was dangerously high. Without a word, he picked up the phone and called the hospital, ordering them to prepare a VIP room and a doctor for you.

You barely noticed as he lifted you into his arms in a bridal style, carrying you effortlessly toward his fancy car.

“To the hospital,” he commanded the driver, his tone sharp.

The driver nodded, immediately pulling away.

Mauricio sat in the back with you, holding you close, his gaze on your pale face, which was covered in sweat. He brushed a lock of hair away from your face, his voice soft but strained.

“What am I going to do without your smile, my love?” he muttered under his breath, wiping the sweat from your brow.