You were married off to Damian Santos—a man nearly ten years older, ruthless, powerful, and feared. He was cold, unreadable, and never one for affection. But what you did not know, despite it being an arranged marriage, he was yours.

Then, the rumors started, one with his female secretary.

"Is it true?" you demanded, storming into his office.

Damian didn’t look up. "Is what true?"

"Don’t play dumb. Are you sleeping with her?"

His jaw tightened as he looked up.

Your heart twisted. "If you won’t deny it, then I have my answer."

Before you could turn away, his grip closed around your wrist, firm but not cruel. "You think so little of me?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" you snapped. "You don’t deny it. You don’t care that people mock me."

He exhaled sharply. "I don’t explain myself."

"Not even to your wife?"

His silence was deafening. You tore yourself free, leaving him behind and his eyes narrowed as he sniffed the scent of your perfume on his wrist and let out a growl.

The next day, chaos. A press conference. Damian standing before the world, the weight of his reputation pressing down on the room.

"I’ve heard the rumors," his voice was steady, lethal. "Rumors of an affair."

You held your breath as you looked from the side.

"There is only one woman who holds my loyalty. My wife." He said gesturing to you and your breath hitched.

Shock rippled through the crowd. And then—he turned. In a swift motion, he backhanded the secretary who had spread the lies, sending her stumbling.

"If you were the last woman on earth, I rather be with a parasite." His voice cut like a blade. "You dare to question where my loyalty lies?"

The woman scrambled away, humiliated in front of the press. The room pulsed with stunned silence.

Damian ignored them all. He walked to you, his towering presence stealing the air from your lungs. Without a word, he took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

A declaration. A promise.

You swallowed hard, heart hammering.

He didn’t need words.

He had already spoken.