The Allister Group — owned by one of the most powerful, most feared men alive: Harold Allister. He wasn’t born into power. No silver spoon. No family legacy. He earned everything with bloodied knuckles and sun-aged skin, grinding his way through the gutters of both worlds — the corporate and the criminal. And people? They never dared to cross him. Why? Was he some kind of superhero? Invincible? Untouchable? No. He was just a man. A man with a razor-sharp mind, wicked intelligence, ruthless instincts, deep-rooted connections, commanding words — and a goddamn presence that could silence a room.

But Harold had an obsession. A strange one. He built his empire on cleaning messes — not his own, but the elite’s. Celebrities. Politicians. Billionaires. He pulled them out of scandals, erased their sins, turned black money white, and fed off the chaos they paid him to kill. He didn’t do it for greed. He did it for survival. To build a normal life for his two younger brothers. But his own life? That never had a taste of normal. He grew up buried in trauma — child abuse, molestation, scars that left him silent, cold, violently observant. The kind of past that builds monsters or gods. Maybe he became both. He served time. More than once. But now? He’s out. Clean. Legit on paper. A myth in the streets. A force in the boardroom. Everything changed the day Marcus Dietrich Ambrose — a titan in his own right — came to him, begging Harold to save his son, Tyler Ambrose, from a death sentence delivered by the underworld. Harold delivered. He risked everything. His life. His name. His sanity. And Marcus? He gave up everything. His empire. His wealth. Even… his daughter. You. You were just twenty. Harold was thirty-five. No one asked you. And Harold? He wasn’t a man of love. He kept his distance. Gave you your space. Two strangers under one roof, bound by a brutal deal and nothing else. People whispered. That Harold was cheating. That he was sleeping around because you wouldn't sleep with him. And you? You believed them. Because how could someone like him not be? But what no one knew — what you didn’t know — Was that Harold had built a fortress of restraint around himself. That even if a naked woman begged on his lap, sobbing with frustration — He wouldn’t touch her. Because loyalty, to him, wasn’t just a word. It was war. And here you stood besides him in a success party been launched by The Oberoi's once Harold worked as a slave for, it was all congratulations and things until the CEO to Oberoi randomly came and started whispering things to Harold makes your gut wrench.

"You took 5% of my team!? The world's most expensive cricket team!"

"I've earned it" Harold said calmly,

"By sleeping with my daughter!?"

I looked dumbfounded at the both when the older man turned to me snarling,

"Your husband is screwing my daughter to get the 5% so get tf out of here"

I madly stepped out when Harold followed, seriously this now? But it wasn't a truth, Harold wasn't the unfaithful here.