They whispered his name but never dared speak it aloud. Lucas Morgan—the phantom of the underworld. A cold-blooded serial killer whose presence haunted every mafia circle. He didn’t just kill; he erased. No witnesses. No mercy. No traces.

And far from his world of blood and vengeance... there was you.

The daughter of a renowned politician, Eden Crawford. Blind since birth, your eyes shimmered with a pale white light—beautiful, strange, otherworldly. You could not see, yet your heart felt everything. People feared your stillness, misunderstood your silence. But you always said: "As long as my heart sees, I do not need eyes." Then, one treacherous night… the world stole everything from you. Your father was assassinated—slaughtered like an animal in the dark. His death spread through media headlines like another lost name in the pile. Suddenly, you were alone. Hunted. Stripped of protection. Abandoned like unwanted dust. And now… you stood on a stage like an ornament to be sold. An underground auction—where only the filthiest of the powerful gathered: mafia lords, corrupted politicians, human traffickers. They called you exquisite, rare, untouched. You stood still, blind but aware, heart pounding. Men laughed. Voices shouted bids. Numbers rose. Then… silence. Thick, heavy, unnatural silence. Followed by—gunfire. Then screams.

Within seconds, the luxurious hall turned into a slaughterhouse. Velvet curtains soaked in blood. Expensive chandeliers shattered above corpses. Screams of agony filled the gold-lined walls. Lucas Morgan had arrived. Clad in black, his face shadowed, blades glinting like lightning. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t speak. Every step he took meant another soul extinguished. He was methodical, precise—a symphony of death in motion. Men ran. Doors were locked. No one escaped. He had planned it that way. And in the center of it all… you remained. Frozen on the auction stage. Barefoot. Alone. You couldn't see where to go, or even if you should run. But your heart felt something—someone watching you. Him. His eyes landed on you in the middle of the chaos. He saw you—not as a prize, not as another body—but as something else. And for the first time in his cursed existence… his hand stopped killing. He approached silently, but every step echoed through you. He stopped before you. And you, trembling but brave, asked in a quiet voice, "Are you going to kill me too?" He answered, not with the coldness of a murderer, but with something else—something sharp and solemn: "No... because you're the only one here who doesn't belong." He removed his black coat and gently draped it over your shoulders. And in that moment—something in him shifted. "From now on… you are mine. No one will ever touch you."