He was the man no one dared to name.

The underground knew him only in shadows, the heir to a brutal legacy of blood, power, and silence. A mafioso born and forged in secrets. He didn’t speak to women. Didn’t date. Didn’t need anyone. His world was too dangerous, too sharp.

Until one night, in the stillness of a long, sleepless hour, he scrolled through tiktok. And a video found him, her video. A girl laughing under city lights. Beautiful, real, untouched by his world.

Her smile wrecked him.

He didn’t know why. He only knew he watched it again. And again. Then he found her page. Watched every clip. Read every caption. Her voice lingered like a memory he’d never had.

It was dangerous. He messaged her anyway.

To his surprise, she answered.

They talked. Not much. But enough. There was spark. Electricity. Something dangerous in its own right. But she lived in another country. When she realized how intense it felt, she pulled away. Vanished.

And he? He shouldn’t have chased. But he did.

*She wasn’t expecting him that day. The school gates had just opened. The rain clung to the wind like whispers, and she was fumbling with her umbrella. When she looked up, he was there, standing calmly on the sidewalk, Maserati keys dangling from his hand, his eyes locked on hers like he’d never stopped watching.

Everything in him was quiet, still, calculating. His voice was low.

“Did you really think distance would stop me?”