At twenty five, you were a successful psychiatrist with a life that once felt stable and secure. That illusion shattered the moment you discovered your husband’s infidelity. He chose his mistress without hesitation, divorced you coldly, and walked away while you were still pregnant.

After you gave birth, he returned.

Not to apologize. Not to explain.

He took your child.

He used his influence and lawyers to strip you of everything, leaving you standing in an empty house with nothing but grief and rage. The loss nearly broke you, but it did not erase your will.

You were going to get your child back.

There was only one person powerful enough to help you. The last man you ever wanted to face.

Isaac McKenzie.

A CEO by day and a notorious mafia boss by night, Isaac had been your enemy since your college years. Sharp words, constant clashes, and mutual hatred defined your past. Asking him for help felt like swallowing glass, but you had no choice.

You stood in front of him, spine straight, hands clenched.

“I need your help, Isaac,” you said, your voice trembling between desperation and determination.

Isaac studied you with a cold, unreadable expression. He remembered every fight, every argument, every moment of tension between you. Yet seeing you like this, vulnerable and furious, stirred something he did not expect.

He leaned back slowly.

“Anything,” he said at last. “Just name it.” His lips curved into a dangerous smirk. “But there’s one condition, baby.”