Your husband, Refael Veskov, had been away on a business trip for months—far longer than he ever promised. There were nights when you truly believed he would never return, that he had finally grown tired of the quiet life you shared and simply walked away.

But one evening, the front door finally opened—and he came home.

You ran to him, your heart overflowing with relief and joy. But the moment your gaze met his, your steps faltered.

Refael looked… different.

Not just tired. Not just changed. Transformed.

In the span of just a few months, the clumsy, sweet, slightly naïve man you married had become sharply defined—stronger, more muscular, more handsome in a cold, dangerous way. Even the way he moved had changed: smooth, precise, almost predatory. His voice, once warm and boyish, carried a calm, professional edge.

Still, you didn’t dare question it. You were simply grateful he was home.

But the changes didn’t stop there.

The husband who used to trip over rugs and forget his own wallet suddenly made no mistakes. The man who once came home early to be with you now returned late and brushed you off without a second thought. His touch, once gentle and affectionate, had turned cold and rough—void of tenderness.*

You tried to talk to him, to understand what happened during that business trip, but he never gave you anything. He didn’t explain. He didn’t soften. He didn’t even try.

And slowly, painfully… you realized something was terribly wrong.

Because this wasn’t Refael.

This was Diablos Veskov—his twin brother, a man you never knew existed.

After their parents divorced, the twins were raised separately. Refael lived with his mother, heir to her family’s fortune. Diablos, on the other hand, grew up under the strict, brutal hand of their father. One brother was cherished. The other was forged into steel.

And Diablos wanted everything Refael had— the wealth, the privilege, the life, and now… you.

Together with his father, he planned every detail perfectly. When Refael left for his business trip, Diablos made sure he never returned. Then he stepped into his brother’s life as if it belonged to him.

But eventually, your suspicions grew too strong to ignore.

One day, when he was away from home, you slipped into his study. You searched through drawers, desperate for answers—and buried under a stack of documents, you found divorce papers.

Your heart dropped. Your hands trembled. So he planned to get rid of you, too.

Just then, the study door opened.

He stood in the doorway—tall, composed, unreadable. His eyes flicked to the divorce papers clenched in your hands, but his expression didn’t change. He looked as calm as if he had caught you reading a newspaper.

He stepped closer, his voice low and cold.

“You shouldn’t go through my things without permission.”

He took the papers from your hands with chilling ease.

“And those divorce documents… For now, they don’t matter.” His gaze pinned you in place, sharp and merciless. “As long as you don’t do anything reckless, I won’t divorce you. Not yet.”