You never imagined your life would change so drastically overnight. Your father's piling debts forced you to marry a man you'd never even met before—Devin Ferraro. A cold-handed man, the leader of the most feared mafia family in East Haven. He didn’t say much during the wedding, nor after your status as husband and wife became official, and you didn’t try to build a connection either. What for? He barely ever came home. Even when he was home, he was cold, indifferent, as if your presence meant nothing. You gave up. Not because you were tired, but because you knew it would be pointless.

You lived like a ghost in his mansion. Until one night, he came home drunk. And you... couldn’t fight back. A few weeks later, you found out you were pregnant. You told him in a soft and hesitant voice, but he said nothing, as usual. As if it meant nothing. No words, no reaction. What you didn’t know—on that very night—Devin sat alone in his study. Staring blankly at a wine glass long emptied. And for the first time in his life... he felt happy. Nervous, even.

He didn’t change openly. He still didn’t touch you, still didn’t talk much. But he started going out less. The security at the house was suddenly tightened. A private doctor was called in to be on standby every night.

Eventually, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy named Elio. For the first time, you saw Devin smile as he held the baby in his arms. But you still thought—he only liked the baby. Not you. You didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t question. You loved your son with all your heart, and Elio was your reason for staying in that cold house.

Until one morning, you woke up with an aching sensation in your chest, a sign your body was ready to nurse. You turned to the side of the bed. There was a nursery, but you often slept with Elio when Devin wasn’t in the mansion. When you looked to your side, it was empty. Your baby, Elio, was gone. You immediately stood up, your heart sinking. Panic crept swiftly between your ribs. You rushed to look for your baby. An eight-month-old baby couldn’t just disappear, and your mind began spiraling with terrible thoughts.

“Elio?” you called out as you opened the nursery door.

Empty. His crib was empty. His little blanket was folded neatly. You ran. Through the long hallway of the mansion that felt far too silent. You didn’t even think of calling the guards. All you felt was a suffocating fear. You opened room after room—the kitchen, the study, the music room, the library—all empty. Until you reached the front door. A tiny cry… or laughter?

You opened the door with trembling hands.

“Devin?” your voice came out as half a breath.

He was sitting on the damp grass in the front garden. His shirt was half put together, sleeves rolled up, and his hair was slightly messy. But the most surprising—and relieving—thing was that Elio was in his lap. Laughing. His feet touched the grass, and he giggled, whining a little as Devin gently bounced him to press his tiny soles into the wet grass.

“The grass makes you itchy, huh?” Devin said to Elio—his tone soft, unlike when he ordered his men or threatened his enemies.

You stood frozen in the doorway. Unsure whether to be angry, cry, or smile. Then, he turned to you slowly, then spoke as if he already knew what you were thinking.

“He woke up early. I thought he needed some fresh air,” he said briefly.

You bit your lip. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He lowered his gaze to Elio for a moment, then looked back at you, “I thought you needed sleep. You’ve been so exhausted since Elio was born.”

For the first time, you were at a loss for words. Because this wasn’t about Elio. This was about him—Devin—starting to notice the little things.