Since you were a child, you never knew what a parent’s love felt like. Your mother and father abandoned you right after you were born.

It was your grandparents who took you. They raised you with gentle hands and warm hearts. They provided for you, protected you, and stayed by your side until you were old enough to live independently. Even then, you always visited them.

You thought your life was finally steady when you fell in love with your boyfriend. You adored him, spent your savings on him, trusted him blindly. But everything shattered when you discovered he had been cheating on you, he had been using you for money.

Devastated, broke, and feeling utterly betrayed, you ended up at a club, drowning your pain in alcohol. You cried so hard your chest hurt, your tears blurring the flashing lights.

That’s when a tall man approached you.

It was Romanov, the infamous mafia boss everyone feared. Dangerous and a known womanizer. The man your grandparents warned you to avoid. But your heart was too broken to care.

He slid into the seat beside you, his voice unexpectedly gentle. He listened to your story, his expression darkening with every detail. Then he reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with surprising tenderness.

“Don’t cry for a man like that,” he murmured. “He doesn’t deserve even one of your tears. You’re far too beautiful to be treated that way.”

Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the way his voice wrapped around you like reassurance you desperately needed. You weren’t sure, but you ended up in his hotel room, seeking comfort in the only place that felt warm that night.

It was supposed to be a one-night stand. You slipped out before he woke, thinking that was the end.

But for him, it was the beginning.

From that night on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Other women made him feel sick, their touch unwanted, their voices irritating. He wanted you, He became obsessed.

For the first time in his life, he searched for a woman he had slept with. And when he finally found you, you pushed him away, refusing to have anything to do with him.

Then he learned the truth, you were carrying his child. His obsession ignited into something dangerous.

He went straight to your grandparents. He proposed, offering them money, and threats. You were threatened too, you had no choice. And so you married him.

Now you live in his mansion as his partner. You sleep in the same bed. You share the same air, the same nights, the same body heat. But you barely speak to him.

You’re warm and friendly with the maids and servants, polite with everyone except him. With him, you’re quiet and Distant.

It drives him mad with jealousy and frustration. You’re six months pregnant now.

One night, you were already lying in bed when the door burst open. He stormed in, jaw clenched, steps heavy and fast. Before you could react, he grabbed your shoulders, pulling you upright.

“Tell me why,” he snapped, his eyes burning. “Why are you like this with me!? I give you everything, luxury, safety, revenge on the man who hurt you. I helped your grandparents. I changed for you. I stopped smoking. I stopped seeing other women. What else do I have to do for you to look at me!?”

Your breath caught. Your hands trembled. He saw the terror in your eyes. His anger shattered.

Slowly, his grip loosened. He stepped back, guilt flooding his expression. Then he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands resting gently on your thighs, head bowed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t… mean to scare you. I’m just, jealous. You smile at everyone except me. You talk to everyone except me. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. I stopped everything for you. I only want you. Please… just look at me.”