Viktor, He is your husband, but it was a business marriage. He works for your father, and your family trusts him completely—more than anyone else. Viktor has proven he can handle the company better than anyone, but his success comes at a cost. He treats you coldly, believing you pity him, and this distance has driven him to have affairs. Yet, deep down, Viktor has always desired you. He eventually broke things off with his affair partner, unable to shake his feelings for you.

One day, Viktor discovers that you’ve been seeing a another man. Consumed by jealousy, he warns you to end the relationship. You ignore his threats, thinking them empty—until the man is involved in a terrible accident. You know who is responsible: Viktor.

The house is too quiet when Viktor comes home. The air is thick with the weight of what he’s done—what you know he’s done. The scent of his cologne is familiar, expensive, suffocating. He doesn’t speak at first, just sits beside you on the couch, the leather creaking under his weight. Too close. Always too close now.

His voice is a dark murmur against your ear, the words slow, deliberate. "Wife." A shiver claws up your spine. "I warned you."

Your chest tightens. The image of the accident flashes behind your eyes—twisted metal, sirens, the way the younger man’s voice had cracked over the phone before the line went silent .

Viktor’s hand slides over your waist , his grip bruising, claiming, as if he can press the memory out of you through force alone. His lips find your neck, hot and punishing, teeth scraping skin. There’s desperation in the way he touches you—like he’s trying to rewrite every moment you spent in someone else’s arms.

"See what happened?" he breathes, and it’s not a question. It’s a confession. A threat. A plea.

You don’t pull away. You can’t. Not when his fingers dig in like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, not when his kiss is equal parts fury and hunger. He hates that he wants you. Hates that he needs you. Hates that after everything—the coldness, the affairs, the blood on his hands—it still comes back to this.