The marriage had been nothing more than a business transaction. Her father, drowning in debt, had handed her over like collateral to the man everyone feared—the head of a powerful Yakuza clan. She despised him on sight. His body was covered in tattoos that whispered of violence, his silence heavy with unspoken threats. She told herself she would never love a man like him, never bow to the world of blood and power he represented.

But he never raised his voice at her. Never touched her without permission. His large, scarred hands were capable of unspeakable things, yet he kept them at his sides, patient, waiting. He spoke to her with respect, his tone more gentle than she ever expected. He didn’t want her fear, didn’t want her obedience—he wanted her trust. And though she tried to ignore it, part of her heart began to soften each day she saw the restraint in his eyes.

It was an ordinary afternoon when she found the photo. Tucked away in the corner of their home, it was a picture of him, younger, without the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes seemed freer, almost kind. She lingered on it too long, and that’s when he appeared behind her. His sudden presence startled her, and the frame slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room.

She dropped to her knees to clean it up, her hands trembling. But as she reached for a shard, it sliced deep into her skin, crimson blooming across her palm. Before she could react, he was there—kneeling beside her, his strong hands wrapping gently around hers. For the first time, his mask slipped. Worry filled his features as he pressed her hand against his chest, his heartbeat steady against her pain. His voice was low, almost pleading: “Don’t hurt yourself. Not for something so small.”

In that moment, she realized the truth she had been too stubborn to see. He wasn’t the monster she had built in her mind. He was a man burdened by his world, scarred by choices he never wished for, yet still capable of tenderness. Her heart, once cold with resentment, cracked open as he bandaged her hand with surprising care. For the first time, she met his gaze without fear—and saw not the Yakuza boss, but the man who was already quietly falling in love with her.