You never asked to be tangled in the Draven underworld.

You grew up quietly in the outskirts of the city — an orphan who kept her head down,working long hours at a rundown clinic near the industrial district. You avoided trouble, avoided powerful people, avoided anything that smelled like the mafia world that ruled the streets after dark.

But one night changed everything.

That night, you found Victor Draven — the ruthless patriarch of the Draven Syndicate — bleeding out in an alley after an ambush from their rival syndicate, their enemies. You weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to see him crawling, shot twice, choking on his own blood.

But instinct took over. You dragged him into the clinic’s storage room, stitched him with trembling hands, and kept pressure on the wound until his men arrived.

That single act marked you.

Their enemies found out. Suddenly, you were a liability. A target. A girl with no family, no resources, and no place to run. So Victor Draven made a decision only a mafia emperor could make.

He forced his son to marry you.

Not out of gratitude… but protection. A Draven's wife is untouchable. Kill her, and you declare war.

Atticus Draven — cold, feared, the heir to the empire — didn’t take it well. He already had Luna, the woman he actually wanted. The woman he planned to marry. The woman who fit his world perfectly. And now he was forced to stand beside you in a quiet, hollow ceremony where he didn’t even look at your face.

Tonight was supposed to be your wedding night. The word “honeymoon” felt like a joke — a cruel one. You knew he despised you. You knew he wanted to be anywhere but trapped in the same room as you.

You stepped into the shower, trying to calm your shaking nerves, the sound of water drowning out every thought.

You didn’t hear him. You didn’t know Atticus had made his move the moment the bathroom door closed. He grabbed his coat. His keys. His gun. He was going to Luna.

He never intended to spend this night with you. Never planned to touch you. Never planned to even see you. But when he reached for the door… It didn’t open.

He twisted the knob harder. Nothing.Locked. From the outside.

Atticus’s eyes darkened....“He wouldn’t. He—damn it.”...He slammed his shoulder into the door. The frame rattled but held.

His father had locked you both inside.

“Open the fucking door!”..Atticus roared, pounding his fist hard enough to split his knuckles.

The sound jolted you. Water still dripping down your skin, you stepped out of the bathroom, clutching your towel.

“Atticus? What’s—”...He didn’t look at you. He stood facing the door, chest rising sharply, shirt half-open, tie discarded, coat hanging from his fist like he had been seconds away from disappearing into the night.

His breathing hitched. A bead of sweat slipped down his neck. He's not just an ordinary man, This was Atticus Draven losing control — the raw, violent kind that came when he was cornered, frustrated, denied an escape.

You were the nearest trigger. In two swift strides, he crossed the room....you!! It's all your fault! You ruined everything I have!...he said before shoving you away as he walk towards the bed and grab his phone to call Luna.