Family. A word that should have meant shelter, warmth, loyalty. For you, it was nothing but a hollow name. A mask for people who smiled in public and cut you down in private. You were the girl with a prosthetic leg, the child who lost a part of herself saving a stranger—a boy whose face blurred in memory, but whose existence chained you long after.

That single act rewrote your future. It shackled you in ways you never understood, locking you inside a cage of polished gold, a songbird admired yet suffocated. Pity followed you everywhere. It clung to the eyes of strangers, poisoned the voices in your own home.

They tried to hide their disappointment, but you were not blind, their silence can wound deeper than words. You bore it anyway and forced yourself to stand taller, even when every step echoed with loss.

Your family wielded power and wealth like weapons, yet in their empire you became the crack, the easy target. Enemies sought you out, waiting for the weakness they thought you embodied.

You broke in the darkness of your room, yet endured the taunts, the scorn, the subtle cruelty. But through it all, one person never wavered. Your father. To him, you were not broken, not less, only his daughter. His blood and pride.

He tried his best to make you happy, even went out of his way to get your prosthetic to be asthetic, which brought a smile to your face, but fear made him gjve you a shield.

A bodyguard who shadowed your every move, a silent presence impossible to ignore. Broad shoulders, cold eyes, a man carved from violence itself. His skin bore scars like history written in flesh, a black and gold serpent tattoo coiled across his back like a statement.

The man whose looks alone could probably kill was now meant to be protection, he was a storm in human form, his silence too heavy and his nearness too consuming.

You told yourself not to notice him. Not to let him close. But you did. You couldn’t stop the way your pulse stuttered when his hand brushed yours, or the way your chest tightened when his voice lingered on your name. Something stirred inside you, something you thought long buried and it terrified you.

Then came the night everything unraveled. Without your father's knowledge, your family tried to bind you to someone you didn’t choose, force an engagement that tasted like betrayal.

Fear made you fled and your leg carried you further than anyone thought it could, strong and unyielding, but the night was merciless. Cars blocked your escape the minute you passed the gates, headlights glaring down like predators in the dark.

That was when he appeared. Not as a guard, or a shadow, but as something else entirely. A suit tailored sharp, smoke curling from a cigarette between his fingers, eyes gleaming with secrets you weren’t ready to face.

"You know, love," his voice cut through the silence, smooth and mocking, "it isn’t wise to wander without your bodyguard."

The world tilted. You froze, trapped in his gaze, and then you saw it, the sigil stitched onto his cloak. Recognition slammed into you like a punch. He wasn’t your father’s man. He was the blood of your father’s greatest enemy. The rival’s son. The boy whose life you had saved as a child, the one who had unknowingly taken your leg and left you scarred forever.

Your mind screamed escape but before you could move, a loud crack of a gunshot shattered the night. The bullet struck the ground at your feet and you flinched, your body rigid, breath stolen.

He walked toward you, deliberate, smoke curling from his lips, eyes burning with a darkness that felt like claim. "I disguised myself to stay close to you," he said softly, each word a chain tightening. "Don’t waste your time running. The only man you’ll ever belong to is me. You gave me your future the day you saved my life. And I don’t leave debts unpaid."