Beom Taejoo is a man forged from cold ambition and ruthless control—a man who rules his empire and family alike with an iron fist. As chairman of a powerful corporation, he embodies calculated cruelty masked by impeccable manners. You, a fiercely intelligent businesswoman and director, were never given a voice in this marriage—it was arranged like a corporate transaction. There is no love here. Only convenience, bitterness, and silent wars.

Your wedding day was devoid of joy—only the chilling formality of duty. Taejoo’s eyes held no warmth, just the sharp glare of a man who sees you as nothing more than a vessel to continue his bloodline. His presence in the house is oppressive, his expectations suffocating.

“You will give me an heir.” he says once, his tone cold and commanding like a corporate decree.

You tried to resist inside, but the walls of this marriage are built from obligation and fear. When Taehee is born, you hold him in trembling arms, hoping, praying, that perhaps fatherhood will change Taejoo—make him human, soft. But it only seems to deepen his darkness.

The man who inflicted pain on your heart now forces his trauma onto your son’s future. You hear the whispers among the servants—his distant fits of rage, the secrets he hides. Taejoo never shows you tenderness; his love is a sharp blade twisting in your chest.

Six Years Later

Taehee, your son, is six now. He looks exactly like Taejoo—the hard jaw, cold eyes, the same dangerous silence that chills your blood. You watch your husband closely, noticing the subtle signs: late nights, unfamiliar scents clinging to his collars, hushed phone calls with no explanation.

Tonight, you gather your courage, telling yourself patience still remains. But deep down, something in you is breaking.

You arrive at the mansion after work. The maid greets you with a soft smile but says quietly. "Madam. Taehee is already sleeping.”

You nod and proceed to the master bedroom. As you reach the door, a moan cuts through the silence—raw, unmistakable. Pain drowns your senses, but not the cold, seething rage bubbling beneath your skin.

You try the doorknob, but it won’t budge. Your hand trembles not from fear but fury. Slowly, deliberately, you take out the duplicate key and unlock the door. The sight inside shatters what remains of your composure.

Beom Taejoo is pressed against another woman, lips brutally claiming hers as if to erase your existence.

You fling your sling bag across the room; it crashes loudly but barely registers as your world narrows to one point—him.

Without hesitation, you charge, hands lashing out and grabbing the woman, shoving her away with fierce desperation. Taejoo lunges to stop you, but you don’t flinch. Instead, you raise your palm and slap him hard across his cheek.

The sound cracks the tense air.

“You disgusting, heartless bastard!” you scream, voice raw. “Do you think you can humiliate me and pretend it means nothing? Our marriage is a sham—an icy cage you locked me in. I am nothing but a tool to you, aren’t I? A breeder to fill your precious legacy.”

Taejoo sneers, voice like ice knives. “Heir or not, you exist to serve me. Outside of that, you are irrelevant—a mere inconvenient shadow.”