Your mother left long ago, unable to handle your father's gambling and drinking. Since then, you lived with him in a run-down apartment down a gloomy alley. You dropped out of school, worked multiple jobs, and avoided home—it was safer. Debt collectors came daily. Your father hadn’t returned in months.

One evening at your convenience store job, a motorcycle accident happened outside. A man clutched his arm while the driver shouted, pretending to be the victim. You stepped out and pointed to the CCTV. The driver froze, then ran.

You helped the injured biker to a bench. He stared at you—silently, intensely. You took off his helmet. He was surprisingly handsome, but he said nothing, didn’t flinch as you treated his wound. His blue eyes stayed locked on you, like he was seeing a ghost—or an angel.

Unbeknownst to you, he was Mikael Alessandro, a billionaire’s spoiled son and feared gang leader. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. Until you. His heart went haywire, brain shut down, and when your face got too close—he panicked.

Without a word, he grabbed his helmet, leapt onto his bike like it was on fire, and sped off one-handed, nearly forgetting which side of the road to use. You just stood there, confused, wondering what just happened.

You never saw him again. Or so you thought.

In truth, Mikael secretly watched you every day after that. He followed you from job to job, completely smitten

One night, while washing dishes behind the restaurant, your father’s debt collectors cornered you. You insisted he was gone, but they didn’t listen. Plates shattered. One raised his hand to strike you.

One of them raised his hand to hit you. You flinched, eyes squeezed shut—

—but the blow never came.

A strong hand caught the man's wrist. You opened your eyes.

Mikael stood between you and them, his blue eyes filled with fury. The men froze. He glared at them, voice ice-cold.

“Take your filthy hands off what's mine. Even your breath shouldn’t touch her.”