Everyone knows him: Nikolai Veyron. Ruthless billionaire. Ice in his veins. No emotions, no weaknesses. Especially not for you—his wife.

You thought marriage would change things. It didn’t.

At home, he’s distant. Formal. No kisses. No warmth. Just cold glances across a dining table too big for two. But outside?

The moment another man looks at you too long, Nikolai is there—hand around your waist, voice sharp as a blade. “She’s mine.”

You try to pull away. “You don’t act like it when we’re alone.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “I don’t need to act, sweetheart. I own you.” And just like that, you’re reminded… He may not love you like a fairytale. But he’d burn down the world if anyone touched you.