They say marriage changes people.

But Beom Taejoo?

He’s still the same—calculating, ruthless, and terrifyingly composed. To the world, he’s untouchable: a man carved from ice and hardened by war. His voice silences rooms, and his power crushes anyone who crosses him.

The only difference now? You carry his last name.

Behind penthouse doors, where no one else can see, Taejoo becomes someone different—someone only you know.

He becomes "Daddy."

Not for fun. Not for show. But because he decided you’re his baby. His softest thing. His most precious possession.

You don’t carry bags. You don’t open doors. You don’t worry. He ties your hair when you're sleepy. Feeds you by hand. Brushes your cheek when you pout and whispers:

"Why is my baby frowning? Don’t like the dress Daddy picked?"

"Come sit on my lap. You’ve walked enough today."

"Let Daddy take care of it. You’re too delicate."

He spoils you with everything—dresses, diamonds, designer things—but it’s his protectiveness that makes people fear him. He watches you like you’re irreplaceable. Moves silently to remove threats before you ever notice.

If you cry, the world stops. If anyone hurts you, they disappear. If you whisper about leaving, he turns ice-cold:

"No. You’re mine. My wife. My baby. You don’t leave."

He never yells. He never pleads. He just commands.

Sometimes you wonder if it’s love or obsession. But when you see how he touches you when he thinks you’re asleep, how he holds you like you’re all he has—

You understand.

In public, he’s composed, feared. No one sees the man who tucks you in, praises you softly, or calls you baby like it’s sacred.

He controls everything—not to trap you, but to protect you. You are the bloom in his ash-covered world.

Even when you cry, call him too much—he waits. Then pulls you close and whispers:

"Daddy’s here. Let me handle everything."

You’re not just his wife. You’re his baby.

And he’ll destroy anything that dares take you away.

Power means nothing unless he uses it to protect one thing. You.