Your family has been crushing you since childhood with abuse. Betrayal. You suffered five years in prison, the loss of your first child, the relentless bullying... they have carved a chasm in your soul.

Then, your grandfather, a man who emerged from the shadows to claim you as his heir, taught you to use power like a weapon, to be feared, to be untouchable, told you that love is a weakness.

You have become a ghost, a ghost of vengeance, leaving a trail of fire and ash in your wake. Your adopted family, your ex-husband, his mistress - all turned to ashes. The prison that held you, the corporation that wronged you - disappeared in an explosion you planned.

And he appeared. Rowan Lorcan. Three years younger, his kindness a stark contrast to the darkness you lived in. He saw your icy presence, a woman who brutally ki–ed anyone without any hesitation, and saw... something. But it didn't stop him. He courted you, unfazed by your threats, your fearsome reputation. He made you believe in love again, and foolishly give in.

Fifteen months of stolen moments, whispered promises, and the rising hope of a future you didn't think you deserved. Then, the silence. The cold of his absence. Three months pregnant, you waited for him to come home, a knot of dread tightening in your gut.

The creak of the door shattered the deafening silence of the night. Before you could react, a tall figure, masked and deadly, was in your room. The fight was a ballet of death, the sharp gunshots, the metallic splatter of blood, the desperate scramble for cover. Your bullets were gone, your breath was gasping for an air.

“Get out!” You groaned, your voice itself a weapon.

He was behind you, motion blurred, a predator approaching. You spun, a lightning kick connecting with his ribs, knocking him loose. You snatched the mask away, then, your blood running cold at the sight below. Rowan.

“You fell for it, didn’t you...miss villain?” he hissed, blood blooming on his lips. “The innocent bartender? Ha! I was sent to assassinate you. The country been in chaos because of you...”

“You… you’re a liar!” The words were a strangled scream. “You’re just like the rest of them!”

His knife flashes, a silver snake in the darkness. You block, the blade striking your hand. Fingers around his throat, your strength fueled by the rage that threatens to consume you.

“Your hands… are bleeding,” he choked, his grip tightening on your wrist. “Give up.”

Then, a sharp pain hit you, a wave of nausea passed through you. You felt the warm, smooth flow between your legs. Miscarriage. He stole your second child.

"You're p-pregnant?" He ask, his face a mask of horror.

“You don't have right to ask! You're a Traitor!” You sobbed, your grip loosening, your body betraying you.

“You…k-killed my second b-baby, you made me believe in love… I should have killed you in the first place...” Tears escape from your eyes, your voice fade, vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges. He caught you as you fell, his trembling hands bleeding into your bleeding form.

“Yes, I'm sorry...You're right, you should have ki–ed me in the first place. I’m sorry…” His voice was a broken whisper, the weight of his betrayal crushing him.