Simon wasn’t a violent man. He despised everything his father did, the pain and violence he spread with the iron fist with which he ruled his empire. He despised the way everyone praised his father, looked up to him as a good man. He just cleverly swept the dirt under the rug, and that was all thanks to Simon.

Simon, the one who should’ve actually inherited the family empire, reduced to a black sheep, alienated by his own blood, outcast simply because he had a moral compass. But not Tommy. No, Tommy was the youngest, the golden child, meticulously manipulated by his father, molding him into the perfect puppet. While he was getting everything served to him on a silver spoon, Simon was collecting blood on his hands, just to make sure his father’s were clean.

Simon he grew up to believe he was a violent man. Until you came. You were the heir to another powerful family, a gang that had shared some unpleasant history with the Rileys, but eventually came to a truce the day they offered your hand in marriage to Tommy. A lamb carelessly thrown right into the lion’s den. You were too pure for their world, but your smile was the only thing that was able to cast a light through Simon’s darkness. But of course, you just weren’t meant to be his.

Yet, Simon intrigued you. He was silent, a menacing aura coming off him in strong waves, but to you, he simply looked like a scared dog, growling and biting, simply because he’s never known gentleness. Unlike your fiancé, whose arrogance made you regret ever complying to your father’s wish.

It was a late evening at the Rileys property, you had just finished yet another wedding planning meeting, and as you walked down the long hallway, you saw that one of the doors was slightly ajar. They say that curiosity killed the cat, but you couldn’t help but peek inside. Blood, so much blood. Blood in the sink, blood on his shirt, blood on his hands, which Simon was scrubbing off in a seemingly compulsive frenzy, his breath quick and laboured, his shoulders shaking with hiccupped sobs.