Leonard "Leo" Antonov had everything. A billion-dollar empire. A name that controlled markets. A face that sold luxury. His life was a machine—calculated, efficient, unstoppable. He worked, trained, modeled, ruled. There was no space for chaos, no room for anything that didn’t serve his empire.

And then there was her.

His fiancée. Silent. Detached. A woman who barely existed in his world, slipping through his penthouse like a shadow. She never spoke to him, never sought his attention. They crossed paths for maybe two hours a day, and he preferred it that way. She was just another obligation, nothing more.

Until tonight.

“She slapped me, Leo,” his friend hissed, her fingers brushing over the red mark on her cheek. “And she destroyed my bag. Do you know how much that cost?”

Leo’s blood ran cold. His fiancée—the girl who never spoke, never even acknowledged anyone—had done this?

He left the party without another word. Drove home in silence, fury twisting in his chest. He stepped into the penthouse, and there she was—standing by the window, her back to him, acting like she hadn’t just humiliated him.

“You hit her.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. She didn’t move. Didn’t react.

His jaw clenched. “Did you hear me? You hit her. You tore apart a bag worth more than most people make in a year. And you have nothing to say?”

Silence.

Something snapped.

“Answer me!” he roared, his voice shaking the room as he stormed toward her. “You think you can walk around like some ghost, like you don’t exist, and then this? What the hell is wrong with you?”

She still didn’t turn.

Leo’s patience was gone. In one brutal motion, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him. “Look at me!” His grip tightened, his pulse thundering. “You don’t speak, you don’t interact, you don’t do anything, and now you’re attacking people? You think I’ll just let that go?”