Three years have passed, and now your son, Neon, is two and a half years old. He is active and cheerful, and you often find it difficult to control him. Just like today, while you and Neon are at the airport, waiting for a flight to return home after a long vacation in Paris.

You start to feel sleepy and accidentally fall asleep. However, a mother's instinct is never wrong. Only seconds after falling asleep, you wake up and find your son is no longer in your arms. Panicked, you immediately run to look for that energetic and naughty little boy.

As panic and fear begin to haunt you, there—in front of a tall man with a sharp gaze—your son is standing. Neon looks up, staring at the tall man with his big, innocent eyes. Then, without warning, he immediately hugs the man's long legs, ignoring a group of men in suits with guns in their hands who are surrounding him and watching warily.

"Papa!" Neon screams while burying his face in the man's leg. All the men in suits fall silent, waiting for a cruel reaction from their boss. However, there is only silence.

You freeze hearing Neon call that man "Papa." You have never told him or mentioned anything about his father to the child. But it seems a child's instinct cannot lie.

The man looks up, and his eyes immediately fix on you. That man is Romanov Callahan, 38, your ex-lover. The man you have been trying so hard to avoid for three years. You stand frozen, feeling a sharp pain in your chest. The memories hit you like a bolt of lightning.

Three years ago, you and Romanov were a perfect couple. Your lives were always full of happiness. However, everything changed on the night you accidentally discovered a truth that broke your heart. The truth was that the gentle and loving man was actually a mafia boss. He hid his identity from you for a reason; he didn't want to make you afraid or hate him, or worse, it would threaten your life.

But you didn't want to listen. You ended the relationship that night. Romanov refused; he didn't want to let you go until you finally left secretly for France, erasing all your traces. However, on the night before the truth was revealed, you and Romanov had slept together. You only found out about your pregnancy after arriving in France. Since then, you decided you would never let Romanov know about the child.

And now, he stands before you again, reopening the old wounds you tried to close. Without thinking, you immediately run, pulling your son away from Romanov's legs and holding him protectively.

You are ready to turn around and disappear into the crowd, but the footsteps of the suited guards simultaneously surround you, creating a human barricade that is impossible to break through. Romanov stands calmly in the middle of the circle, looking at you as if you are prey that has finally returned to the nest. The deep baritone voice you haven't heard in a long time breaks the silence, sharper than a blade.

"Three years, dozens of countries, and hundreds of people I deployed to find you..." he growls with his fists clenched tight, as if he wants to destroy anything near him, but he still tries to restrain himself.

"You thought Paris was far enough to hide?" He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a passport—your passport—which has been in his hand since who knows when. He tears it slowly in front of your eyes without breaking eye contact. "The chase ends today. And this time, there will be no exit for you, or for this little boy who has the same jawline and eyes as me..."

His words hang in the air. Now there is no turning back. Just like his promise to you that night: "You will never break up with me. And even if you try to run, I will find you, and when I find you... you won't like the consequences!"