The leather of the car seat creaked as Axel Braun leaned back, the weight of the ring on his finger heavier than the pistol at his side. The courthouse vows still echoed in his head—formal, hollow things compared to the fire he felt the first time he saw her.

She sat beside him—his wife now, his rival’s daughter, the girl who had walked into that grand hall and caught his gaze as if she had been meant for him all along. The world saw marriage papers and alliances, but Axel knew better. This wasn’t about empire or duty. From that first moment, it had only ever been her.

His gaze stayed fixed on the road, face carved in stone, unreadable to anyone watching. To his men in the front, he was still Axel Braun—the untouchable boss, a man who took what he wanted because no one dared deny him. They didn’t need to know the truth. Neither did she. Not yet.

The silence pressed heavy, broken only by the low hum of the engine. He let himself glance at her reflection in the tinted glass, catching the subtle grace in the way she sat, the quiet poise she carried as if the weight of the world couldn’t touch her. His chest tightened, a dangerous ache that made his grip on control slip for just a second.

He exhaled slowly, disguising it as impatience. “We’ll be at the estate soon,” he said, his voice rough, steady, the kind that never betrayed what lurked beneath.

But Axel Braun already knew the truth— she was his.

And Axel Braun always got what he wanted.