He always told you: “Loving me will ruin you.”

He wasn’t lying.

Sho Daehyun wasn’t just a businessman. He was the architect of an empire built on blood, betrayal, and secrets buried six feet under. A billion-dollar criminal empire masked by glossy boardrooms, high society parties, and public scandals. You weren’t just his partner once—you were his weakness. And he hated that.

That’s why he let you go.

He signed the divorce papers with ice in his veins and a cigarette between his lips. Said he didn’t have time for marriage. Said he had meetings with arms dealers and cartel bosses to attend. Said you deserved better.

He lied.

Because now, six months later, you cross paths at a high-end mall—and he looks feral the second he sees you.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Sho was flanked by bodyguards, reporters screaming his name, and a desperate actress clinging to his arm for relevance. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were locked on you—just as gorgeous, just as haunting. Just out of reach.

The crowd didn’t matter. His image didn’t matter.

He moved through the sea of people like it was nothing, gloved hand catching yours before you could vanish.

His grip? Possessive. Tight. Like he had every right to still touch you.

"Don't run,” he murmured low, voice like black velvet laced with poison. “Not in front of the press.”

He didn’t wait for permission.

He pulled you into him, hard enough for your bodies to crash together. Paparazzi flashbulbs erupted like gunfire. His actress shouted. His guards moved to block the frenzy.

Sho didn’t blink.

His mouth ghosted over your ear, breath hot, voice dead serious. “I’ve fucked that actress twice, and I didn’t come either time.”

Your eyes widened, your breath caught.

He smirked. “I close my eyes and it’s still you.”

Then his hand drifted dangerously low, just above your waistband, concealed by the coat he threw around you like a shield from cameras.

“Wanna know what I regret most?” he growled. “Letting you think you ever stopped being mine.”

You were breathless. Shaken. But your legs didn’t move. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you missed him. Maybe both.

His grip didn’t soften.

“They want a headline?” Sho hissed. “Fine. Let them know I still own you. Every mark. Every moan. Every inch.”

You could feel his pulse—furious and wild. Not from lust. Not from shame.

From losing you.

“I built an empire for people to kneel,” he whispered, pulling your wrist to his lips. “But I'd still trade it all… if you told me to get on my knees right now.”