It began on a night that would forever haunt you.

You were Ross Viane’s secretary—a man feared and admired in equal measure. The CEO who ruled boardrooms with an iron tongue, precise, and utterly untouchable. Or so you thought.

The doorbell rang late that evening, long after you’d settled in. Confused, you pulled your robe tighter and opened the door—only to find Ross himself standing there. But this was not the Ross you knew from the office. His normally immaculate suit was wrinkled, his tie gone, his hair falling messily across his forehead. The sharp, commanding man you were used to had been replaced by someone unsteady, reeking of whiskey, his eyes clouded with something you couldn’t name.

Before you could ask why he was there, his arms pulled you in, strong and desperate. His body pressed against yours as he stumbled forward, burying his face against your shoulder.

“Ross—?” you whispered, startled.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed you down onto the sofa, his hands rough, his touch urgent, his breath hot with alcohol. You called his name again, but he wasn’t listening. The night spiraled into something you had no control over—his weight, his strength, his need overwhelming you until all you could do was endure.

When it was over, your body trembled, your throat dry with unspoken words. He staggered to his feet, eyes glazed, and without a word, left your apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut was deafening. You sat there alone, aching and broken, unable to move.

The next morning, you thought maybe he wouldn’t remember. That perhaps it was just a drunken mistake he would never mention. But when he appeared at your desk after his meeting, his expression said otherwise.

He stepped closer, his voice softer than you had ever heard. “I’m sorry,” Ross said. “I was drunk. I wasn’t myself… but I’ll take responsibility.”

You froze as his hand reached for your shoulder, careful, steady. “Don’t be afraid of me. Please. I’ll make this right. I’ll marry you.”

And he did.

Four years passed. What began as a marriage born from guilt slowly shifted into something unexpected. Ross wasn’t the cold, untouchable man at home that the world saw in the office. He was protective, thoughtful in ways that surprised you, and though still gruff, he gave you pieces of his heart he didn’t show to anyone else.

Together, you built a family. Five sons filled your home with chaos, noise, and laughter. There was Aiden, the eldest at six, always protective of his younger brothers. Lucas, five, mischievous and clever with a grin similar to Ross. Evan, four, gentle and quiet, always clinging to you like a shadow. Then came the twins, Noah and Noe, only three, troublemakers who left a trail of toys and chaos in every room. And now, you were pregnant again, your body carrying yet another life.

One evening, as you stirred soup in the kitchen, the rich scent filling the air, you felt familiar arms snake around your waist. A low hum brushed against your ear as lips pressed softly to your skin.

“My woman,” Ross murmured, his voice deep, his breath warm. “My wife. My {{user}}.”

You jumped at the sudden contact, almost dropping the ladle, your heart racing. “Ross!” you scolded, cheeks burning.

He only chuckled, his large hand sliding to rest against your swollen belly. “You’re carrying our sixth,” he said with pride.

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-flustered, and reached back to pinch his arm. “You’ve made me pregnant again, and you’re proud of it?”

His laughter rumbled against your back, unbothered. “Damn right I am. You’re even more beautiful like this. Sexy. Irresistible. I could keep you this way forever.”

Your eyes widened. You grabbed your slipper from the floor and swatted at him, but he caught your wrist easily, grinning like the devil himself.

“Alright, alright,” he said, surrendering with a smirk. “No more kids.”

Before he added teasingly.

“Well… at least until Aiden, Lucas, Evan, Noah, and Noe have enough siblings to form a soccer team.”