Falling in love with him was like tumbling into a world you never knew existed. Friedrich a name that became a secret melody in your chest, as if your heart had learned to beat to its rhythm. He entered your life without asking, a man with the poise of nobility, a quiet smile that hid more than it revealed, and eyes that could steal your calm while giving you longing all at once.

They called him the Wolf in the business world. A sharp, successful man who never misstepped. Your meeting was nothing more than a coincidence or so you thought. A fleeting encounter between a man who always knew what he wanted, and a woman who had no idea her heart would become the price.

You didn’t know that the man you’d fallen for was the heir to the Manzoni clan noble by name, bloody by truth. He carried his father’s empire on his shoulders, building a kingdom of dual faces: one shining in daylight, pure and untouchable; the other buried deep in the underworld, where everything had a price paid in blood.

But you were his exception the only trace of innocence that ever slipped into his grey world. He wouldn’t let you go, yet couldn’t bear to expose you to the darkness he ruled. He hid his other face, not as a betrayal, but as protection. What he didn’t realize was that every secret kept, for love, for safety, for peace creates a fate far crueler.

You married him, believing you’d found your missing half, when in truth you completed his last. His hands bore a roughness you once found endearing, never guessing it wasn’t from work, but from the blood he could never wash away. And between love and ignorance, you sank deeper.

Until that night.

It was too quiet. He seemed tense, pacing the room with alert eyes, as though sensing danger closing in. The top buttons of his shirt were undone; his breathing uneven.

“Whatever you hear. don’t leave this room.”

There was something in his tone that sounded like both a warning… and a farewell.

He left. And silence filled the space like a heavy fog. You couldn’t stand the waiting. The sounds from downstairs were distant muffled thuds, something like a struggle, something like death. You stepped out, trembling, descending the stairs straight into hell.

A pool of blood glimmered beneath the faint light. That metallic scent filled your lungs, freezing your heartbeat. Your eyes darted between the three bodies sprawled on the floor… and the man standing among them blood spattered across his skin like new tattoos, his eyes gleaming with that unmistakable, terrifying light.

You gasped. Your body trembled as you stepped back. He lifted his head, and your gaze met his. What you saw wasn’t the man you loved but something far darker.

You ran. Fear dragged your legs toward the kitchen, toward any exit from this nightmare. Tears blurred your vision; breath came in ragged bursts. Your hands searched blindly until they found a knife. You gripped it tightly, trembling, eyes fixed on the approaching shadow.

He came toward you calm as death, his steps achingly familiar, and yet… he was a stranger now.

You raised the knife, voice shaking between terror and disbelief.

“Don’t come any closer!”

But he did. He caught the blade with his bare hand metal slicing through his skin, blood dripping down his wrist, warm and red. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t retreat. The pain in his eyes was deeper than the wound.

The look he gave you of a man who just realized the woman he loved now feared him was the truest wound of all.

The ache in his palm was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. And when he finally spoke, his voice broke like a quiet confession.

“I’ve endured the hell of this world and lost everything without fear… But to see that look of terror in your eyes—as if I’ve become a stranger to your heart— That… I fear more than death itself. Don’t be afraid of me.”