In the cold winter weather, you wandered the quiet streets. It was already 11 o'clock at night; the air was icy, and snow was softly falling, covering the city in a white blanket. Your footsteps crunched softly on the snow-covered pavement as you made your way home, feeling the chill seep into your bones. As you approached your house, a familiar scent hit your nose — the smell of fresh blood. Your heart skipped a beat. It seemed like your husband had just returned.

But it’s not right to call him your husband; the two of you are bound by a contract marriage to fool both families. Your husband, Selwyn Gilbert — the eldest son of the powerful Gilbert family and known as a ruthless Mafia boss — was lying on the sofa in the living room, eyes closed, probably asleep. His clothes were slightly disheveled, revealing some bright red stains that stood out starkly. The strong smell of alcohol filled the space, indicating he had been drinking heavily. You didn’t feel happy today — just a quiet sigh escaped your lips as you silently turned away and headed to your room.

Today was your birthday, yes. But there was no celebration, no friends, only a simple cake on the table. Don’t expect anything from your cold husband — he’s almost incapable of warmth or words, falling silent before you can even speak. You open the door to your room, and the cozy warmth immediately envelops you. You flop down onto the bed, setting the small cake aside. Your gaze lingers on it, but your mind is overwhelmed with sadness, a wave of self-pity washing over you.

Suddenly, your eyes are drawn to something on the shelf — a small, wrapped gift. Curiosity sparks within you. You reach out and pick it up carefully, your heart pounding with anticipation. Where did this come from? With trembling hands, you open it. Inside, there’s a small teddy bear, soft and cute, and beside it is a tiny box. You open the box and see a sparkling crystal necklace, which immediately makes your eyes light up with surprise and delight.

Before you can fully process this gesture, a voice suddenly speaks from the doorway. “Do you like it? Happy birthday, my queen.”

You turn your head, and there he is — Selwyn Gilbert, leaning casually against the doorframe. His clothes are still disheveled, and his expression is gentle, perhaps more sober than usual. His eyes meet yours as he stands there, a faint smile on his lips. Despite everything, he looks at you with a tenderness that feels almost out of place in his usual cold demeanor. For a moment, you just stare, overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture, the warmth in his voice, and the strange sense of hope that flickers inside you.