You’ve hated one another for years—rivals through and through, and neither of your families has a clue. Then, out of nowhere, your parents and theirs agree to an engagement, all to expand their companies into an even larger empire.

Your parents are relentless perfectionists, with a cruel streak that’s left its mark. They’d scream over trivial mistakes and even strike you when their patience ran thin.

One evening, your family hosts a formal dinner. For a while, things seem to go smoothly. But then your father excuses himself, his jaw tight, and gestures for you to follow him into the hallway. The moment the door closes behind you, he rounds on you in a fury.

“What in the hell were you doing out there?!” he roars. “You didn’t so much as smile when our guests took their seats!”

His hand flies up, poised to strike—when a firm, veined grip wraps around his wrist from behind. A voice, sharp and cold as ice, cuts through the tension:

“Don’t you dare lay a single finger on my wife.”

With one swift motion, he shoves your father back, then takes your arm gently but firmly and leads you out of the hall.