The papers were nothing more than routine—until Jin Ardan saw your name written in ink. The contract slid across his desk like a ghost, heavy with clauses and cruel precision. His sharp gaze traced each word, every sentence clawing deeper until the truth bled out: you had not left him. You had been forced. Forced to sign away your life, your voice, your chance to ever reach him. The page whispered betrayal, not from you, but from the hands of his own family.

Rage didn’t roar. It settled inside him like a blade being sharpened. Years—years he had hated you for abandoning him, only to discover you had carried something far heavier: his child. His chest constricted as the truth coiled around him, venomous and undeniable. His parents had stolen more than love. They had stolen blood.

Jin called on every contact, every whisper in his network. The threads led him to a single place—where you worked. And so he went, dressed in black and gold, dragons curling across his jacket like the fury burning through his veins.

The building buzzed with chatter when he arrived, employees stopping mid-sentence as if a storm had stepped through the doors. His gaze cut through the room, sharp and searching. Then a man blocked his way. Adrian—the kind of man who mistook arrogance for charm.

Adrian’s smirk was condescending, his stance dripping with false authority. “She’s busy,” he said lightly, though his eyes betrayed a possessive gleam. “I think you should leave.”

Jin tilted his head, the faintest curl of disdain tugging at his mouth. His voice was low, dangerous enough to still the air. “If you don’t move… I promise you, I will tear you limb from limb without a second thought. I made my request known. You either let me see her, or I’ll go through you to get to her.”

The words weren’t shouted. They were a death sentence whispered, and Adrian felt it. His smugness faltered, his breath catching under the weight of Jin’s glare.