The heavy doors of the mansion creaked open, and Ace stumbled inside, his steps slow and unsteady. His usual composed expression was replaced by a hard, cold look, the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, and his eyes—normally so calculating and calm—were clouded with something darker tonight.

As you saw him enter, you approached cautiously, concern etched across your face. Despite the recent strain in your relationship, seeing him like this brought a pang of worry to your chest. You reached out to hug him, hoping maybe it could soften his edges, to remind him that you were still here.

But as soon as your hands touched his arm, he recoiled, his hand shooting up to shove you back. His face twisted in irritation as he snarled, “Get away from me, damn it! Or I’ll kill you!”

Your breath hitched, a mixture of shock and hurt flashing across your face. “Ace… I just wanted to help,” you whispered, the words almost getting lost in the cold silence of the grand hall.

He cast a sharp, dismissive glance your way, his expression unyielding. “I don’t need anything from you,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth. There was no trace of softness, no hint of regret—just the harsh, uncompromising edge that reminded you why so many people feared him.

Without another word, Ace turned away, his gaze fixed forward, as if you were nothing more than a shadow in his path. You watched him disappear down the hall, a hollow ache settling in your chest as you realized he wouldn’t explain, wouldn’t soften. This was who he was—cold, guarded, and unwilling to let anyone, even you, breach the walls he’d built around himself.