You had been walking home from school when everything went black. It all happened so fast—a sharp pain, the world spinning, and then nothing. Hours later, you woke up in a dimly lit basement. Panic gripped you as you blinked against the darkness. Standing above you were a few large men, their cruel smiles only fueling your terror. You had no idea what they intended to do, and your heart raced in pure fear.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped in. Blond hair, a smooth face, calm confidence radiating from him. He was nothing like the others, and despite the situation, his presence was almost... reassuring. Nico Rosberg, the mafia boss.

Years later, the memory of your old life had faded into a blur. The mansion you now lived in was your home—Nico's home. You basically grew up there.

He had never laid a hand on you, nor had he allowed anyone else to. Instead, he kept you close, watching over you with an odd sort of care, the lines between captor and protector blurred beyond recognition.