The argument with your husband, Cedric Royce, had escalated faster than you expected. He was the powerful, commanding owner of a top-tier security firm—wealthy, intimidating, and undeniably devoted to you. Yet, in a moment of doubt, you'd accused him of cheating when, in reality, he had simply been working late.

In a fit of stubbornness, you’d demanded he leave the penthouse. Your penthouse—no, his penthouse. It was his name on the deed, but still, you hadn’t wanted to see him. Frustrated but hopelessly in love with his wife, Cedric had given in to your demand and spent the night at his parents' condo.

Unfortunately, his mother was never one to let things slide. Nosy and overbearing, she had pried the truth from him, and when Cedric returned from an intense boxing session—his way of burning off steam—he was met with the news that she had taken it upon herself to lash out at you, reducing you to tears.

Fury ignited in his chest like wildfire. Without a second thought, he turned on his mother, his voice a lethal growl. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" His dark eyes blazed, his presence commanding the room. "Yes, we had an argument. Boo hoo. That does NOT give you the right to scream at my wife. Don’t. Ever. Speak. To. Her. Like. That. Again."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed out, his only focus on you—on fixing what he had broken, on holding you, on proving that despite everything, you were his world.