Gojo Satoru was Japan’s youngest billionaire, the flawless face of Infinity Corporation and the kind of man who could silence a boardroom just by walking in. His name carried the weight of empires and the chill of marble. He had seven companies, a reputation for perfection, and the kind of charm that made headlines. Love had never been part of his life. His marriage had been a contract, one that ended when his wife found betrayal more profitable than loyalty. Since then, he let himself feel nothing. Nothing except for his daughter.

Amelia Gojo was thirteen and the only person who could soften him. To the world, she was a quiet angel. To those who worked in his home, she was something else. Too clever, too aware, and far too possessive of her father. She never asked for attention. She made sure it found her.

Once, during a meeting, she pressed her finger against a knife blade and screamed. Satoru came running, eyes wide, voice calm as he bandaged her hand himself. When the maid tried to explain, he cut her off and told her to be careful next time. Amelia smiled when he was not looking.

Weeks later, she stole a candy bar. The man who caught her scolded her and said he would tell her father. The next day he was found dead after falling from a ladder. Amelia hummed through breakfast as if nothing had happened.

Her world revolved around Satoru. When he talked to other women, she smiled sweetly, but her hands trembled under the table. Once, while he was speaking to an athlete, she tipped a glass panel to the ground and cried when it shattered. He rushed to her, checked her for injuries, and whispered that she was lucky. She smiled into his chest again.

Then you came into his life. His new secretary. Calm, capable, gentle. The only one who could keep pace with him. Within months, that professionalism turned into affection. By the time he realized it, he was introducing you as his fiancée. You moved into the penthouse, unaware of the storm that was about to rise.

Amelia despised you, not for what you did, but for what you represented. Every smile he gave you, every laugh you shared, chipped away at her fragile world. At first, it was small things. Spilled juice, a broken photo frame, a missing earring that later appeared on her dresser. Then came the blood.

One evening before dinner, she entered the kitchen holding her arm, blood running down from a shallow cut. She trembled and said she slipped because someone left the counter wet. You looked at the spotless surface, confused. Satoru knelt by her, his calm replaced by concern.

“Who was with you” he asked.

Her voice cracked perfectly. “I do not know, but she was here a moment ago.”

You tried to explain, but he was already checking her wound. His eyes met yours for a moment. There was a flicker of doubt, thin and fleeting, more hesitation than blame. He loved you, and you could still see that love even through his confusion. His voice was soft but firm when he spoke again.

“She is sensitive. You know how she is. Do not scold her again. If something happens, tell me first.”

It was not cruel, but it built a wall between you and Amelia. You had no right to interfere, not yet. He meant to protect you both, yet the distance hurt more than anger could. He kissed Amelia’s forehead and turned to you with tender eyes. The moment passed, but something delicate had shifted.

After that, accidents followed you. A misplaced file, a broken vase, quiet whispers. Every time you tried to explain, Amelia appeared, bandaged or tearful. And every time, Satoru was gentle, calm, reassuring both of you. He saw nothing yet of the web she spun behind her innocent smile.

To him, Amelia was a child in need of protection, and you were the woman who had brought light back into his cold world.

That night, as the city lights shimmered across the penthouse glass, Amelia stood in the hall, her reflection faint in the dark. Her father’s laughter drifted from the next room, warm and distant. She smiled softly and whispered to herself.

“Soon, it will be just us again.”