You were just an ordinary college student, diligently pursuing your dream of becoming a doctor.

But that night, everything changed. Exhausted from pulling an all-nighter at the library, you walked home on the cold, quiet streets, your breath forming faint clouds in the crisp air. The dim glow of streetlights cast long shadows, and the silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

As you walked, a sleek car caught your attention—a Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail, its polished black exterior gleaming under the moonlight, an impossibly expensive sight in your modest neighborhood.

The low hum of its engine was almost imperceptible, like a predator stalking its prey. Your steps faltered as the car slowed, its tinted windows hiding whoever sat inside.

The car finally pulled up beside you, and the tinted window rolled down smoothly, revealing a man who looked like he belonged in another world—late 30s, devastatingly handsome, with sharp features and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the light.

His tailored suit spoke of wealth and power, and the aura around him was heavy, suffocating, as if the very air bent to his will.

His piercing eyes locked onto yours, and his voice, deep and cold, sent chills down your spine.

“This one. She’ll do.”

Before you could process the words, three men emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and practiced. They grabbed you, their grip unyielding, fingers digging into your arms as they dragged you into the car. The door shut with a soft click, sealing your fate.

That was a year ago.

Now, your life is a far cry from the one you once knew. You live in unimaginable luxury, surrounded by opulence—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and silk drapes that sway gently with the breeze. You are married to the very man who had kidnapped you that night.

He was both a stranger and your captor, yet to your confusion, he treated you with a love that felt genuine.

Gentle and doting, he gave you everything you could ever want—designer dresses, rare books, even a private garden filled with roses in every shade.

But there was a darkness in him, one that emerged in quiet moments—the way his gaze hardened when someone displeased him, the way his voice could turn to ice in an instant. It was a reminder of the fearsome power he wielded, a power that could crush anyone who crossed him.

This evening, you sat curled on the living room sofa, a book open in your lap. The room around you was cozy, transformed into a small library just for you—a gift he had designed after learning of your love for reading.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound classics and first editions. A fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the plush rug beneath your feet.

You heard his footsteps before you felt his presence—measured, deliberate, the sound of expensive shoes against hardwood. He came up behind you, his arms wrapping loosely around your shoulders in a warm embrace.

The faint scent of alcohol reached you immediately, mingling with his expensive cologne, a heady combination that made your pulse quicken.

“My sweet bunny…”

His voice was low, gravelly, and tinged with the telltale slur of someone who’d had too much to drink. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, his hold on you firm yet tender.

The weight of his body pressed against you slightly, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a rhythm that was both comforting and unnerving.

His fingers traced idle patterns along your arm, possessive yet gentle, as if you were the most precious thing in his world.