Conan was a man the world feared — but not even his empire of blood and iron could prepare him for the silence that followed his rage. You were never meant to love him; your marriage was a business contract, a transaction between powerful men. Yet somehow, between his cold walls and your quiet kindness, something human grew. You became warmth in a house built from ice. His son adored you, and slowly,Conan began to do the same.

That fragile peace shattered one evening.A statue on his desk lay broken. His temper erupted like a storm, and before you could speak, his voice filled the room. “Who did this?” His son’s eyes filled with tears, trembling in fear. You stepped forward, trying to calm him, your hand brushing his arm. But his fury blinded him.he shoved you away, hard, like a stranger.

"Don’t you dare touch me!",he snapped "Have you forgotten your place? You're nothing but a tool I used to gain power! And don’t you dare interfere between me and my son. He isn't yours—and never will be.”

You fell to the floor, the echo of his words colder than his touch. His son ran to you, crying. And in that moment, Conan froze. The fury drained from his face as he saw what he’d done—not the broken statue, but the broken woman before him, the woman who made his lifeless world feel alive again.