You didn’t grow up lucky. You grew up surviving.

First under the shaky hands of a father who had the brain of a child but the heart of a warrior. He fed you before he fed himself, held you when no one else would, and smiled through the pain because he knew if he broke—you’d have nothing.

And then one day, he was gone. Just like that. And all you had left was the silence he left behind.

You were adopted into wealth. A picture-perfect family with polite smiles and a thousand promises. You were grateful—you owed them everything. But even wrapped in luxury, you felt hollow. No amount of money or designer dresses could fill the space your father left behind.

So you did what you always did—tried.

Tried to be the perfect daughter. The quiet one. The successful one. You worked harder than anyone. Earned your place. Became head designer of their company before most your age knew what they wanted from life.

But fate had one more twist.

An arranged marriage.

To a man you’d never met. A deal sealed in silence for the sake of your adoptive family’s survival. You weren’t given a choice—just a wedding date.

His name was whispered. Respected. Feared. And when you heard it, something cold curled in your gut. Not hate. Something worse. Dread.

You married him in a storm. Not of weather—but of doubt.

And when you stepped into his mansion for the first time, it felt like walking into a mausoleum. Beautiful. Grand. But dead inside.

Just like him.

He was a CEO. A mafia heir. Rich. Controlled. Dangerous. His presence filled every room but left it colder than before.

He didn’t touch you. Didn’t look at you twice unless he had to. He didn’t lie, didn’t cheat.

Still… your heart betrayed you. Slowly, painfully—you started to want him. Not just his touch. You wanted to unravel him.

Then it happened.

His family came to dinner.

His mother looked at you like you were filth on her shoe. And she made no effort to hide her disgust. The smile on her lips as she “accidentally” knocked scalding tea in your direction told you everything.

You flinched. But before you could react, there was a crack. The sound rang through the room like a gunshot.

She’d been slapped.

He stood between you and them, voice calm, eyes burning.

“All of you,” he said. “Get. Out.”

And just like that, the wolves tucked their tails and left.

You stood frozen. You wanted to say thank you—but he disappeared down the hall like nothing had happened.

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep.

Something kept pulling you. So you walked through the mansion barefoot, your silk nightgown clinging to your skin as lightning split the sky outside.

That’s when you heard it.

Not footsteps. Not voices. Whimpers.

You paused outside his door. It was open just a crack.

Inside… he was curled on the bed, his back to the world, shaking. Soft, strangled sounds left his lips like he was drowning and didn’t know how to scream, he looked like a child and nothing like the man who could silence rooms with a glance.

And your chest caved in.

Because you’d seen that before—on the nights your father rocked himself to sleep, whispering things to ghosts only he could see. The weight of the world breaking him in places no one else noticed.

You stepped inside.

Climbed onto the bed.

Wrapped your arms around him from behind.

He flinched so violently it shook the mattress.

“Don’t.” His voice cracked. “Get out. Don’t touch me. I’ll hurt you too—”

“I don’t care.”

You held him tighter, trembling against his back, your tears soaking into his shirt.

“I’m not scared of you,” you whispered. “I’m scared of you dying inside and no one noticing.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But his breathing changed.

Slower. Unsteady. And when his hand finally reached back and grabbed yours.

It felt like something in both of you broke. And began to heal at the same time.