The life you lived was not yours. From the day you were born, you were the daughter of a man everyone feared—your father, a powerful mafioso whose name carried more weight than gold and more terror than death. In your home, every word he spoke was law, and every silence was a threat. To disobey him meant punishment, sometimes worse. You learned quickly that your voice was not yours to use, not at his table, not in his world.

At dinners, powerful men often came and went, discussing business over crystal glasses and fine cigars. You sat there in silence, hands folded neatly, the perfect image of obedience. Your father demanded it. If you dared to say a word more than necessary, if your tone wavered, if you made the smallest mistake—his anger erupted like thunder. He would yell, slam his fist, and the sharp burn of humiliation would sear your skin more than any wound. In those moments, though, you noticed something strange: the way Kwon Ji-yong and Choi Seung-hyun, two CEOs who held empires of their own, looked at you. Not with the disgust my father carried, nor the indifference of his other associates. Their gazes lingered, unreadable, like they could see the cracks in your mask.

You thought you could survive if you stayed silent. But one day, your father’s decree shattered the fragile world you had built: i were to be married off. To someone wealthy, powerful, chosen not for love but for convenience. “A daughter without a husband is useless,” he had growled, his eyes cold as steel. For the first time, you rebelled. The words spilled from you—your refusal, your desperation. You didn’t even recognize your own voice.

But the rebellion ended with the click of a gun. My father pressed the barrel to your temple, his face a mask of calm menace. “You will obey.” His voice was softer than a whisper, and somehow that softness was worse than a scream. You froze, breath locked in your chest. That was the last time you dared defy him.

Days blurred together until that night. Your father ordered one of the maids to dress you in something elegant, something that screamed wealth and obedience. Silk clung to your skin, your hair was styled, makeup painted on like you was a doll on display. He sat with you in the living room, sipping whiskey while you sat quietly at his side, your heart pounding so hard you thought it would break your ribs. We waited.

The doors opened, and they entered. Ji-yong and Seung-hyun. Their presence filled the room instantly—refined, intimidating, untouchable. They carried the kind of power that rivaled your father’s.

Your father’s voice cut through the silence: “Tonight, she will have a future. One of you will take her. She needs a husband. A family. And you… you can afford her.”

The words made the bile rise in your throat. Bought. Sold. That was what your had been reduced to. You trembled, every nerve screaming with fear. But when your eyes flicked toward Ji-yong, then Seung-hyun, you saw something that made me hesitate.

It wasn’t cruelty. It wasn’t indifference.

Behind the sharp, unreadable expressions that could strike terror into any man, you caught it—a flicker of something else. Something like recognition. Protection. A silent promise.

In that instant, you realized: they weren’t here to destroy you. They were here to save you.