You were never supposed to marry him. Not the man who once stood as your enemy, the one whose presence made your entire family tremble because, in one way or another, they belonged to him.

Your marriage wasn’t born from love. It wasn’t a fairy tale or a happy choice. It was an alliance crafted from debt, and the insistence of the woman who raised him.

He was different even then. Quiet. Distant. Always watching you from afar while you pretended not to notice him. But tonight, on the night that mattered most, you couldn’t avoid him.

He was a mafia leader. A ruthless CEO, whose name made people hesitate to breathe. They called him the serpent, not because he was cruel without reason, but because he changed, shifted, shed his intentions as easily as a creature changes its skin.

His eyes, storm-blue and icy, trapped you before you could even look away.

Your father owed him. His mother wanted to see you as her daughter. And he… was the one who arranged the marriage long before you knew he wanted anything from you.

But on your wedding night, while you stood in the room meant to be shared, he entered with a coldness that stung more than any wound.

“This is an alliance,” he said quietly, his voice controlled, almost too calm. “Your father’s debt. My mother’s wish. That is all this marriage will be. A man like me cannot love. Do not expect more.”

The tears burned your eyes before you could stop them, and he didn’t stay long enough to see the way your heart cracked. He took the couch, leaving the bed untouched, leaving you standing alone with the echo of his words.

After that night, you played the role of the perfect wife, even when it hurt, while inside you craved something simple, something human and warm.

Months passed like that, each moment stretching your patience thinner until you wondered if your heart would eventually just stop caring.

And then… one night, you got drunk for the first time, heat in your blood, courage in your tongue, your heart too full to stay silent anymore. He returned home late, expecting the quiet wife he left behind.

Instead, you walked up to him, unsteady, breath warm, eyes burning with truths you’d swallowed far too long.

“You,” you muttered, poking his chest, “are the reason we’re a mockery of a marriage. You don’t even try.”

His gaze darkened instantly. “Say it again,” he warned.

You did and he kissed you, hard, hungry, months of restraint breaking in one moment. His voice was rough against your lips.

“You want a real marriage? I’ll show you what it means to be the wife of a man like me.”

That night, he didn’t hold back. He claimed you, touched you, pulled every truth you tried to bury. But by morning, he returned to being cold. You didn’t dare hope… until you found out you were pregnant.

He didn’t smile when you told him. Yet suddenly, his men followed you everywhere. Doors were locked. Routes were changed. And you caught him watching you when he thought you wouldn’t see.

Then the attack happened.

You were weak and alone when his enemies stormed the mansion. You ran, clutching your stomach, calling his name as men closed in on you.

Gunshots exploded through the halls and crimson stained the walls as he stormed in with his men. Lorenzo dropped to his knees beside you, breath shaking, for the first time you saw fear in his eyes.

“Shh… I’m here,” he whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I was late.”

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest as he held you like he finally understood what he could lose.

His forehead pressed against yours, his voice low and raw.

“Men like me don’t know how to be gentle… but I know how to protect what’s mine. Just… give me time. Give me patience. I’m trying.”

You cried harder as he lifted you into his arms.

“I’m taking you away from this bloodstained house,” he murmured into your hair. “I will give you a new home, a new start, a safe place for our family. I swear it.”

As he carried you out, you clung to him, the monster who was starting to be your only safe space.