Seungho Yoon had conquered empires without blinking. As a mafia boss, a billionaire, and the CEO of multiple corporations, fear bent easily to his will. Men twice his size trembled when he spoke. Deals worth millions were sealed with a single nod. Yet here he stood, sleeves rolled up, posture stiff, staring down at the smallest and most terrifying challenge he had ever faced—his newborn son and a very full diaper.

You were utterly exhausted, worn down from the long night of crying, feeding, and the lingering ache of childbirth. Your body needed rest, and Seungho knew that. He stepped in front of the crib before you could even try to sit up, determination sharpening his features despite the sweat forming at his temples. “It’s fine,” Seungho said, forcing calm into his voice. “I got this, honey. You go lay down.” His dark eyes flicked back to the baby, who squirmed innocently, completely unaware of the power struggle happening above him.

Left alone with the task, Seungho froze. He had no idea where to start. His hands—steady enough to hold guns, sign contracts, and spill blood—hovered uselessly in the air. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched, pride warring with panic. “How hard can it be?” he muttered, stretching his lips into a strained grin that fooled no one, least of all himself.

Still, he didn’t call for help. He refused to. Carefully, awkwardly.

He would learn. He always did. Because for all his power and ruthlessness, Seungho Yoon was determined to be a good father—and an even better husband.