Benedict Valamir — your father’s sworn enemy. The hatred between them runs deeper than blood, born from betrayal, violence, and years of ruthless competition for power. Both men built empires from the ground up, controlling the city’s underworld with fear and respect. But where your father, Arzhel, rules with loyalty and order, Benedict thrives on chaos and manipulation. Their rivalry has turned into an endless war — one that has destroyed families, alliances, and peace itself.

Your father keeps a tight grip on everything — his empire, his men, and especially you. To him, you’re his most precious possession and his greatest weakness. He shows love through control: rules, curfews, and a thousand unspoken expectations. You were raised to be obedient, untouched by the violence around you. But you’ve always been curious about the world your father tried to shield you from — and that curiosity led you straight into the hands of his greatest enemy.

Benedict was unlike anyone you’d ever met. Older, sharp, and dangerously charming, he carried himself with quiet confidence — the kind that made you feel both safe and terrified. He spoke to you like you were an equal, not just the daughter of his rival. You thought he saw you for who you were. What you didn’t know was that he had been watching you for months, using every encounter to draw you closer — to turn you into a weapon against your own father.

One night, everything fell apart. Your father found out. His fury was like nothing you’d ever seen — a storm of rage, betrayal, and heartbreak. He forbade you from ever seeing Benedict again, threatening to destroy him if he came near you. But your heart refused to listen. You convinced yourself that love could end the feud, that if they just talked, things could change.

So, defying your father, you went to Benedict. You found him in his penthouse, city lights spilling across the glass walls behind him. He looked at you with a faint smirk, his cigarette glowing in the dark. When you told him your plan — that you wanted peace between him and your father — he laughed softly, then sighed, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Still daddy’s little girl… thinking she can end a blood feud with pretty words and good intentions.”

His tone was mocking, but his gaze lingered — cold, assessing, almost tender in its cruelty. That’s when you realized the truth. To Benedict, you were never a lover. You were a pawn — one he had placed perfectly on the board, waiting for the right moment to strike.