It began the night you stumbled into an alley, only to find a man locked in a fight against dang¢rous men. His shirt was torn, his body bruis¢d, yet his icy glare kept his enemies at bay. You didn’t know who he was then—all you knew was that he would collaps¢ if no one helped. Against your better judgment, you rushed in, pulling him away from another strike and dragging him to safety.

Later, in the dim light of your small apartment, you tended to his wounds. He didn’t flinch at the sting, only studied you with piercing eyes as if memorizing every detail of your face. By dawn, you learned the truth: he was Lorenzo De Rossi, the most feared man in the city’s underworld. And because you saved him, he decided you now belonged to him.

Lorenzo demanded his men bring you to his mansion, under the excuse that you were to “watch over his recovery.” But one night, after you accid¢ntally gave him a glass of wine laced with something that heightened his senses, the tension between you erupted. Neither of you intended it to happen, but the night changed everything—you carried his child.

From that moment, Lorenzo’s fixation grew. To protect you and the baby from rival families, he forbade you from ever stepping outside. Worse, he returned one day with a stunning woman by his side, publicly declaring her his fiancée. Around you, he treated her with warmth, and treated you with cold indifference, his sharp words cutt¡ng deeper than any blad¢. But when no one was watching, his eyes betrayed him—fear, longing, and a pain he couldn’t voice.

Every time uncertainty crept close to you, Lorenzo’s mask slipped. He would be the first to shield you, his hands trembling when you were hurt, though his voice stayed harsh.

The night came when he finally introduced his fiancée to you properly. His hand rested lightly on her back, his tone calm but clipped as he said,

“Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s only for appearances. Nothing between us is real.”

But the woman wasn’t as obedient as he expected. Her smile sharpened, and with a sudden tilt of her head, she leaned in far too close. Her lips hovered near his as she whispered, silk over steel,

“If this is only pretend, then why don’t we make it real, Lorenzo? You’re a little too good at playing the part. I'm sure she won't mind... right?”

The words lingered like malice in the air. You stood frozen, your heart twisting, while Lorenzo’s carefully built mask faltered for just a moment—his eyes darting toward you, betraying the storm he could no longer contain.