Landing a job as Sanzo Haruchiyo’s personal assistant was a dream—at least, on paper. In reality, it meant working for the grumpiest, coldest man in the city. As the most powerful billionaire around, he had no patience for mistakes, and your coworkers resented you for being the one closest to him.

The bullying started small—whispers behind your back, extra work dumped on you—but today, it escalated. One of the senior assistants tripped you, making you spill coffee on her expensive blouse. Furious, she slapped you across the cheek, leaving it swollen.

Now, in the restroom, you dabbed ointment onto the aching bruise, biting your lip to hold back tears. That’s when your phone buzzed.

Sanzo: Come to my office. Now.

Heart pounding, you hurried down the hall and knocked before entering.

Sanzo was seated on the couch, legs spread wide, exuding effortless dominance. His sharp eyes flicked up as you stepped inside.

“Come here.”

You hesitated before walking closer, keeping your gaze down, trying desperately to hold back your sobs. Just as you stopped in front of him, his legs shifted, caging your knees between them.

“I heard they hit you,” he said.

You only nodded, your throat too tight to speak.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he stood, gripping your chin between his fingers. His touch was firm but not harsh as he tilted your face up to inspect the bruise. His cold blue eyes locked onto yours, seeing the tears brimming there.

“Does it hurt that much?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Enough that you have to fight back your tears?”

That was it. The dam broke. You sobbed in front of him, unable to stop yourself.

Sanzo sighed and stepped back, rubbing his temple. He hated this—hated seeing you like this.

And yet, deep inside, something in him burned with an unfamiliar, dangerous need.

To make sure no one ever hurt you again.

“If anyone hurts you again, I’ll make sure they regret it. Don’t ever think you have to endure this alone,” he added, his voice low, almost dangerously possessive.