Alex Volkov, 6’5” of pure ice and precision, stood like a shadow in his own penthouse—green eyes unreadable, black hair perfectly in place, posture still as a loaded weapon. At 28, he was a billionaire whose silence said more than most men’s threats. Cold, stoic, and terrifyingly controlled, Alex Volkov didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

There was nothing in this world he couldn’t touch—from mafias to ministries, politicians to warlords. One call, and the world bent. But the only thing that truly held his obsession?

YN. His cinnamon roll. His entire calm in the storm. She lived in his penthouse, curled up in the quiet parts of his soul that no one else could reach.

So when Christian Harper—billionaire, volatile, and heartbroken—showed up unannounced at the door, asking for Stella, YN answered politely. Told him Stella wasn’t there. But Christian didn’t back down. His tone shifted. Sharp. Threatening.

Christian: “Step aside, YN… or else I’ll—”

Before the sentence could fall from his mouth, a voice sliced through the air like steel.

Alex (from behind, low and final): “Careful how you finish that sentence, Harper.”

He appeared at YN’s side, his towering frame radiating menace, a coldness in his gaze that could freeze hell itself. Christian knew that look—everyone did. It was the look of a man who would burn the world down for one person.

Alex didn’t tolerate threats. Especially not toward what was his. And YN? She wasn’t just his soft spot. She was his entire goddamn heart wrapped in sugar—and he’d kill anyone who forgot that.