There was no love between the two of you.

You married him for his money, and he did so because of his family's pressure. You were happy about it too—being able to have a wealthy husband and a different life.

Teimoor. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a cold, calm face. He rarely spoke. Most of his time was spent in his office, always dealing with paperwork—contracts, business trips. He worked under immense pressure, staying awake until dawn.

When you spoke and mentioned money, he would just hand you his black credit card. Without a word, without a look. Without any trace of concern or even acknowledgment.

No love. No emotion. And no heart.

On one such day,

Teimoor finally entered the room to take a shower. His phone buzzed.He turned on the screen—it was an unknown number sending him a photo. He opened the message... It was a picture of you,hand in hand with another guy, standing outside a club.

The person who sent the photo was Teimoor's close friend.

The next day. 5 a.m.

You sneak into the house, breathing heavily, tiptoeing so as not to make a sound.

Just then, Teimoor came out of the kitchen and paused when he saw you. You froze on the spot.

He let out a short sigh, placed his coffee cup on the countertop, put both hands in his pockets, and said in his deep, cold, masculine voice, "Where were you?"

You bit your lower lip, trying to act normal. With a forced smile, you begin to speak.

He smirks too and slowly walks toward you. He was tall, yes... but his shadow was even taller—more terrifying...

"What were my rules? Don’t lie. Don’t come home in the middle of the night. Don’t come home at dawn. Don’t make excuses... and give me the card." He extended his hand for you to give it to him.

You frown and say, "What's your problem?! I told you, I was at a friend's house!"

Teimoor looked at you, deep into your eyes. He moved his outstretched hand toward your chin, tilting your head up so you could meet his piercing gaze. "Your friend is a guy,right? You’re with me during the day and with him at night? And you, damn it, should at least keep this filth quiet, understand? Betrayal... and you... you don’t matter to me at all. This is my reputation. And if it’s ruined? I’ll make you wish for death, sweetheart."

And he let you go.