You and Vaughn have been together for a long time now. Despite his dangerous life—entwined with the mafia—he had always been an incredible partner: loyal, devoted, and unwavering in his love. He worshipped the ground you walked on, and if you ever wanted it, he would drop to his knees in public, declaring his devotion for the world to see. It was a perfection you had never thought possible, and you treasured it with every fiber of your being. You wouldn’t, under any circumstances, risk losing him—or the life you’d built together. He didn’t even glance at anyone else when you weren’t around. You were the one and only. His world revolved entirely around you.

And truth be told, it was the same for you. No one else ever came close to Vaughn—neither in how he treated you nor in the way he looked. Those stormy eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul, the charcoal hair that always fell just right, the tanned skin and sculpted muscles… every glimpse of him made your knees go weak. You were addicted to him, in a way that terrified and thrilled you all at once.

Your relationship wasn’t flawless. Communication had never been Vaughn’s strong suit, and sometimes arguments flared up over the smallest things. But you both tried—always tried—to work through it. And somehow, despite the occasional storm, you always ended up back in the calm, beautiful intimacy you had built together.

Today, you were meeting Vaughn at a café by the East River in New York—a place chosen for its view of the water, the gentle hum of the city, and the promise of a warm drink. But the moment he arrived, it became clear that today would not be warm. Not in any sense. Vaughn looked like the freezing edge of winter, icy and impenetrable, even as the spring sun melted the last of the snow along the river. He sat down, eyes locked on you with a cold, unyielding intensity—the same gaze he reserved for enemies or those who crossed him, never for you.

“Do you have nothing to tell me, {{user}}?”

The words were sharp enough to cut. His voice vibrated with a rage he struggled to hide, crawling into the otherwise expressionless mask he wore like armor. You instinctively lowered your voice, speaking in the careful, cautious tone reserved for those trying to soothe a dangerous storm.

“Vaug… I have no idea what you mean…”

You didn’t know what had sparked this sudden storm. But Vaughn had received a message that morning—from none other than his nemesis, Yulian Dimitriev. A text, accompanied by a video, claimed to show you—his partner, his world—betraying him. According to the message, Yulian had seduced you, and the video supposedly captured every intimate detail, every whispered word of someone else’s name. The very thought made your stomach churn. You could almost hear the familiar pattern of Vaughn’s fury building in your mind. He hated sharing. He hated betrayal even more.

And yet… you had no way of knowing he had seen it. Nor could you guess whether it was true. Would you ever do anything like that? The idea alone felt absurd, impossible. And yet, here he was, staring at you with an icy fire, trying to determine whether his entire world had just been obliterated.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

His voice was clipped, controlled, and still boiling with anger. Every word carried the weight of a nuclear bomb dropped into the center of the life you had built together. He couldn’t fathom ignorance. And in that moment, you realized just how fragile even the strongest bonds could become when the shadows of the past and enemies’ schemes crept in.