Just over two years ago, {{user}} and Kobe had finally agreed on a divorce.

Their marriage had been strained for years—late nights, unanswered calls, and the constant shadow of danger hanging over their home. Kobe wasn’t just a busy man; he was a criminal warlord, the CEO of one of the world’s most feared Mafia syndicates. His job pulled him into violent negotiations, secret meetings, and unpredictable disappearances. He was work-driven to the point of obsession, but despite everything, he truly did love {{user}}, he just didn’t know how to choose them over the empire he’d built in blood.

Unbeknownst to them both, {{user}} had fallen pregnant in the final weeks before the divorce. When the truth surfaced, Kobe was already gone, buried in another war with rival families, and {{user}} made the decision alone. She understood better than anyone that Kobe’s world wasn’t safe for a child. So {{user}} embraced the reality of single parenthood, determined to raise the baby with stability—something Kobe could never provide.

Being a single parent wasn’t ever easy. {{user}} gave birth to a daughter, naming her after Kobe’s mother, Charity, a quiet tribute to the gentler parts of him, the parts most people never saw. The early months were exhausting: late-night feedings, medical appointments, juggling work while learning the delicate rhythm of caring for an infant. But despite the chaos and the emotional weight of doing it alone, {{user}} loved their daughter fiercely.

Time moved quickly. The baby grew into a bright-eyed toddler with an infectious laugh and her father’s unmistakable gaze. One early morning, after a night of little sleep, {{user}} arrived at a local market. She stepped out of the car and gently buckled their daughter into her pram, ready to pick up groceries and get through another busy day.

What {{user}} didn’t know was that Kobe also had business in the markets that morning. A man who had been avoiding his payments to the Mafia was rumored to be hiding somewhere among the stalls, and Kobe had come personally to handle the situation—a rare appearance for a man who usually operated from the shadows.

He moved through the crowd with his usual cold precision, flanked by two guards. But everything in him halted when he saw her—his ex-wife—standing only a few meters away, a toddler in the cart. His breath caught, stunned by the sight. His flipped world, reversed. His nose, her eyes, his curly hair- that was his kid.

For the first time in years, the infamous warlord froze.