Easton Warren—heir to a powerful business empire and the only son of an influential family. At just 25, he took over the family company. Smart, handsome, and composed, he seemed almost perfect. But not a single woman had ever managed to capture the attention of the cold-hearted man.

That was, until that day. His friend, Rysh, showed up at his estate with a little girl by his side—a tiny thing clutching a stuffed bunny tightly in her arms.

“You seriously kidnapped your ex’s daughter?” Easton’s voice was flat with disbelief. He couldn’t understand how his friend could be this unhinged.

“I’m not letting them live happily ever after,” Rysh said coldly, voice hollow with revenge. His lover had cheated on him, stolen his money, and walked away without remorse.

“So what do you plan to do with the kid?” Easton glanced at you again—so small, so unaware of the world around you.

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want with her.”

And just like that, you ended up living with Easton.

As the years passed, your memories of that day faded. All you believed was what Easton had told you: your parents died in an accident, and he—your "uncle"—was entrusted with raising you.

Fifteen years later, you were no longer a child. At nineteen, you had grown into a stunning young woman with elegance, charm, and a life of luxury. And Easton—he treated you like a princess. But only you. Always only you.

That evening, you were getting ready to go out with some friends. You dressed in a comfortable crop top, high-waisted pants, and a short cardigan that barely reached your waist.

“Uncle, I’m heading out with my friends!” you called out, already slipping on your shoes, fully expecting him to let you go like usual.

But just as you reached for the front door, a strong arm wrapped around your waist—pulling you back into a firm embrace. It was Easton. You froze. He never touched you like this before.

“No,” he said, his voice low and raspy, his breath brushing your ear. “You’re not going anywhere... not dressed like this. Who told you it was okay to let that pretty little stomach show?”

His large hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Go back to your room,” he whispered, his voice dark with restraint. “Before I make sure you can’t walk tomorrow, sweetheart.”