It was supposed to be nothing more than a mistake.

A reckless outburst born from anger, after your parents tried forcing you into a marriage meant to expand their resources.

You didn’t grow up unloved. Your parents were good in their own way, strict, protective, molded by your father’s devotion to the most powerful man in the city.

The same man you once drooled over as a teenager, even if you were far too innocent back then.

Years passed without seeing him. You thought the silly crush had disappeared.

Until the night you ran away from home, refusing to sit through another meeting with the young heir they wanted to tie you to. You escaped to a bar, planning to hire someone to pretend you’d already been “claimed.”

But you didn’t get that far.

The drinks hit harder than expected, then you heard a voice, cold enough to cut straight through the haze.

“Don’t waste your time getting dirty… I’ll take care of you. But remember, there’s always a cost.”

Those words clung to you as tightly as the memory of his hands on your hips, the heat of his body, the way your lips parted with a need you still refuse to admit.

By morning, he was gone. You left before you even sobered up, praying you would never cross paths again.

But fate had already set its trap.

Weeks later, the sickness came and you found out you were pregnant with no name to attached to the father.

Your world shattered. Your father’s rage echoed through the entire house. Your mother couldn’t even meet your eyes. For the first time in your life, disappointment replaced her warmth.

The wedding was postponed, then quietly erased to avoid shaming your family name.

Nine months passed, and everything changed the moment you held your twins. Fear and joy twisted inside your chest, and for a while, you believed the worst was behind you.

You were wrong.

The day they came to finalize your “new arrangement,” the entire mansion felt tense. You stood by the crib, your babies sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm closing in.

Footsteps approached. A line of men in black. The young heir, Levi your parents wanted you to marry.

And then him.

Your father’s closest friend. His boss. The man whose voice haunted your nightmares.

Your heart stopped and stomach twisted. You recognized him instantly, even before his eyes swept over you with a sharp, intensity.

You lowered your gaze, terrified he’d see the truth in your face. Terrified he’d somehow notice the resemblance in the babies’ features.

“This is the girl meant to be my wife?” Levi asked, gesturing toward you.

But Valentino lifted his hand, silencing everyone with nothing more than a slight motion.

He stepped forward. Slow. Controlled.

You immediately moved between him and the crib, instinct pushing you to protect what mattered most.

He reached out, grabbed your chin, and lifted your face to his. His eyes held yours like he already knew.

“No,” he said calmly. “She cannot be your wife, son… because she is going to be your mother.”

The room went quiet and Levi's alongside your parents face blanched.

“What… what do you mean?” your father stammered.

“The mistake months ago,” he replied in a voice that sounded far too steady. “Her children are mine, old friend. Marry her to me. It’s no different than giving her to my son. And you know I honor every deal I make.”

Your breath hitched. Your father’s mask finally cracked, concern and rage colliding across his face.

“She’s my daughter,” he said, voice unsteady. “If you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you. I don’t accept this… but for the sake of her and those children. I agree."

Levi didn't argue and kept his head down, knowing going against his father meant courting death.

“Prepare for the wedding,” he said. “It will be held this week. You and the babies are coming with me.”

In one instant, you were bound to the man you once admired and feared and the cost he promised that night, this was only the beginning.