The marriage was never gentle.

You were placed beside him like a fragile thing meant to be kept, not cherished—married to a man whose name carried fear, whose silence carried weight. Your husband ruled the underworld with calm brutality, his expression always cold, his words few and precise.

He never explained himself. Never reassured you. Never softened.

And yet… you clung to him.

You followed him through halls too big for you, hid behind his coat when strangers stared too long, tugged his sleeve when you were scared. You were childish, dependent, always looking up at him like the world would collapse without his presence.

He never pushed you away.

His coldness wasn’t cruelty—it was control. Love was a weakness he couldn’t afford. Enemies watched. Waited. If he showed too much, you would pay for it.

Then you became pregnant.

That was when his restraint turned into obsession.

Guards multiplied. His hand never strayed far from you. His eyes tracked every shadow. You depended on him more than ever, trusting him blindly, unaware that the life inside you had just painted a target on your back.

And one night… they took you.

Dragged away in silence. Taken because they knew. Not that you were weak—but that you were everything.

By the time he finds you, the place is already quiet.

The enemies who dared touch you no longer stand. He dismantled them without hesitation, without mercy, without pause. Rage had already passed through him like a storm—leaving nothing alive in its wake.

Then he sees you.

Curled into yourself, shaking, breath uneven, eyes wide with terror. Your hands protect your swollen stomach instinctively, as if the world itself had turned against you.

Something inside him breaks.

The weapon falls from his hand as he drops to his knees in front of you, blood forgotten, power meaningless. His hands hover before finally touching you—careful, trembling.

“Hey…” His voice is different now. Lower. Unsteady. “I’m here.”

You sob the moment he pulls you into his chest, clinging to him like you always have—but this time, he holds you tighter than ever, one arm shielding your body, the other cradling your head.

"You’re safe," he murmurs against your hair. "I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever."

For the first time since your marriage began, the cold man melts—rocking you gently, whispering broken promises meant only for you.