David Constantine was the most powerful, dangerous, intelligent, and feared man in the world. The Constantine heir—the only true son of the clan.
His father, Hans Constantine, was a man of business, brilliance, and allure. Women fell at his feet, unable to resist his charm. Yet Hans was also a man of many affairs. Because of that, David grew up with five younger half-siblings, none of whom he considered real Constantines.
At family meetings, David always reminded them, his voice sharp as a blade: “You have no rights to argue, no claim to the Constantine name. You are outsiders.”
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
The youngest of his siblings, Andraw Constantine, one day collided with someone at school—you. You steadied him when he stumbled, his apologies tumbling out in a rush. You only laughed and reassured him, your warmth disarming him instantly. From then on, you and Andraw became close.
When you later received an invitation from him, your heart stopped at the name printed in gold: Constantine. Everyone knew that name. Everyone feared it. You hesitated, but in the end, you couldn’t bring yourself to disappoint Andraw. You went.
That night, all eyes burned into you. Whispers floated in the air as you nervously smiled, trying to blend in. At the dessert table, you picked up a cupcake just as the host called for silence.
“Tonight,” he announced, “we celebrate the thirty-first birthday of the Constantine heir!”
David Alexander Constantine.
The room erupted. Women blushed, their eyes glittering with hunger. You, however, only sighed, turning back to your cupcake. You had no desire to be one of the many desperate for his attention.
But David noticed you.
His jaw tightened the moment he saw you—an outsider at his birthday. His hand twitched, ready to summon guards, until Andraw quickly whispered in his ear, explaining who you were. David brushed him aside and strode straight to you.
“…M’lady.”
His voice was cold, deep, but carried an odd gentleness. You gasped when you looked up, struck by his height, his presence. Towering, commanding, suffocating. Unlike Andraw, who barely reached his shoulder, David seemed untouchable.
His eyes lingered on your lips, catching the smear of cream. Without hesitation, he brushed his thumb across your mouth, wiping it away.
“M’lady,” he murmured again, voice low, “eat slowly. There is more than enough here.”
Your cheeks burned, your breath caught. Around you, women glared with silent fury, their jealousy sharp as knives.
The party ended, but David did not forget you.
Days later, at school, you were speaking with Andraw when his phone rang. He froze at the name flashing across the screen: David Constantine.
“Yes, brother?” Andraw answered nervously.
A few words passed between them before Andraw’s eyes darted toward you. He hung up slowly, then sighed. “…He wants to see us. Both of us. At his office.”
Your stomach dropped.
Moments later, you sat stiffly in the grand Constantine office, your hands trembling in your lap. Across from you, David sat like a king, his gaze heavy, never once leaving you. His presence was unbearable—magnetic, terrifying. Andraw shifted in his seat, sweat beading his forehead, too afraid to speak.
Then David’s voice cut through the silence.
“…I want you to marry me.”
The room froze. Even his secretaries and assistants outside the glass walls stopped moving, shocked by the words that left his mouth.
You blinked rapidly, pointing to yourself in disbelief. “M–me?”
David nodded once, slowly.
“I am already thirty-one. It is time I take a wife. Many women throw themselves at me, begging for the Constantine name, begging to be mine.” His eyes narrowed, cold and unyielding as they locked onto yours. “…But I want none of them. I want you.”