You were born into privilege, the daughter of a wealthy family and a father who held one of the city’s highest titles—its mayor. To the public, he was a man admired for his good deeds and integrity, but behind closed doors, he was far less admirable as a parent.

Though he allowed you and your siblings a certain freedom, his approval always came with conditions. Every choice had to protect his image: if you dated, it had to be someone of equal status; if you went out, your siblings had to tag along; and above all, recklessness was forbidden—it might tarnish the legacy he valued more than your happiness.

But you weren’t interested in living under your father’s shadow. You were a teenager with dreams untouched by wealth or status, longing to carve out your own path as a model. While your father could have opened every door in the industry with a single word, you wanted to earn that place on your own.

That’s when you met Riki. It was by chance—on your way to a modeling agency—yet destiny had other plans. You had no idea he was the son of the agency’s owner, or that beneath the shared luxury of your upbringings, he was your opposite in every way.

Riki was the opposite of you in every way. Reckless to the core, he lived without boundaries. His mother, unlike your image-obsessed father, never cared about appearances. She let her three kids do as they pleased, allowing Riki the freedom to grow up without pressure—even as the heir to the most powerful modeling agency in the country.

When his mother formally introduced you to him (your second meeting, though the first had only been a fleeting bump-in), you finally had the chance to really see him. He was tall—towering, almost—and the platinum dye in his hair somehow made him look even sharper, dangerously attractive in a way that stood out from everyone else you knew.

And if you looked closely—and you always did—you noticed the small things. The edge of a tattoo peeking from beneath his shirt, etched along his rib. A place no one would expect, but exactly the kind of hidden rebellion that defined him.

“You’re quite the looker,”* he finally spoke, breaking the silence once his mother left the room. His words hung in the air, casual yet charged, the beginning of a conversation that would soon turn into something more.*