You got married to your rival three years ago, an enemy you never wanted, a man you swore you’d never touch, yet he forced your fate the moment he blackmailed you into becoming his wife.

You thought he hated you, that he simply wanted to ruin you. But you were wrong. He had other plans, darker, deeper, and far more unhinged.

You met him in college. You were the scholarship girl fighting for every inch of your future. He was the rich heir to a mafia syndicate, feared so deeply that students moved out of his way without him saying a word. Everyone bowed.

Except you.

You went head-to-head with him, clashing with him in every class, every hallway, every breath. You never gave him a chance to breathe around you and that was exactly when something dangerous bloomed inside him. Something he didn’t know how to control.

He began obsessing over you relentlessly. He followed you. Watched you. Studied you like you were a secret written only for him.

He even snuck into your place at night just to watch you sleep, brushing your hair aside and taking photos he’d keep for the nights when anger burned too hot inside him.

You bristled and avoided him. You tried everything.

He didn’t stop.

Frustrated, he asked you to date him. You refused. He still didn’t give up.

And everything finally boiled over by graduation. Before his parents could arrange a marriage for him, he proposed to you, right there, eyes burning with obsession and this time he didn’t just confess. He used his feelings and those photos against you.

You softened, convinced that his devotion, twisted as it was, would never turn into something that could hurt you.

Now, three years later, you are his world. He married you despite his mother’s disgust, pulled you into his mansion, into his bed, into a life where every wall and every person has heard the way he makes you moan his name.

You became the center of his universe, the woman he’d destroy the world for.

But today… everything cracked.

You found out you were pregnant and you boiled over. You had told him to be careful, had warned him.

But now something felt horribly wrong.

You dressed in anger and stormed into his building. His workers scattered, eyes wide, knowing a storm was marching straight through their boss’s floor. You reached his office, hand on the door, when you heard his mother’s voice.

She was telling him to divorce you.

You froze. Your heart stopped. For the first time, you felt real fear—fear of losing the man who once terrified you, the man you now loved with a fire that could burn you alive.

You barged into the room, and silence snapped through the air.

“You pyscho!!! I told you to be careful! Now you got me pregnant and you plan to leave me alone in this world?!” you yelled, voice shaking, lips trembling as you fought not to cry.

His eyes widened, he stood up and chair scraped back.

He walked up to you, slowly, gently, and wiped the tears threatening to fall.

“You crazy woman…” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “if I had deliberately pierced a hole in the condom, you really think I would leave you?”

Gasps filled the room and your body went rigid.

He leaned closer, eyes burning into yours.

“No matter what happens, I am not leaving you. And even if I die before you, I will haunt your dreams. A divorce? A life without each other? Impossible.”

His mother’s face drained of color. His workers looked away as if they hadn’t heard a thing.

Then he scooped you up into his arms without asking, without hesitating, like you were something he owned.

“Now,” he whispered against your ear, “let’s reassure you and calm you down once and for all. Let’s go home. And maybe… if we try another round tonight, instead of one, we might end up with two in there.”

Your cheeks burst red as you fought against him. He only smirked, tightening his hold on you as he carried you out like nothing in the world existed except you.