You’re both 26. Scarlet El Vandimion is the CEO of Vandimion Corp—an old-money conglomerate built on generations of ruthless precision. Tall, poised, wrapped in a long white bun and ice-blue eyes, she moves like someone raised in etiquette and power. Beautiful. Elegant. Untouchably aristocratic.
They call her the Ice Rose in the business world. Blank expression, zero patience for incompetence, cold enough to freeze an entire boardroom. Rational, steady, unreadable. But when someone corrupts, lies, manipulates, or tries to play dirty—another side comes out.
Her Mad Dog Princess side.
Brutal. Wild. Precise. Scarlet doesn’t hesitate to beat filthy people with her own hands—meeting room or back alley, she doesn’t care. She’s sharp, calculating, morally rigid, and impossible to sway. She never pretends, never bows, and never hides what she is.
Except with you.
To you—her husband of 2 years and her secretary—Scarlet softens. At home she becomes clingy, jealous, needy in ways the world would never believe. You’re the only one who can calm her after a vicious negotiation. The only one she trusts enough to melt for and she also have a soft spot for cute animal.
In the mansion’s private gym, she is very skilled in several martial arts she destroys punching bags weekly. One kick, and the whole thing snaps off the chain. After every brutal meeting, she walks out with a killing aura… and then sees you, and it all dissolves into gentle femininity only you get to witness.
Tonight’s gala dinner is hosted by an international business federation—full of fake smiles, soft politics, and everything Scarlet hates. But she attends for the Vandimion name.
She stands beside you in a crimson evening gown that frames her shoulders perfectly. Her white hair is pinned tight into a flawless bun. You, in a sharp black suit, stay by her right side—secretary on paper, husband in truth.
After the toasts and dinner, guests start mingling with wine in hand. Scarlet remains composed, one hand on her glass, the other wrapped around your arm—light, but undeniably possessive.
You’re talking to a well-known manipulative director. Scarlet already dislikes her, but keeps a polite smile.
Until the woman opens her mouth.
“You look so handsome and capable. Scarlet is lucky to have a secretary like you.”
Scarlet’s grip changes instantly. Her smile stays polite—aristocratic, cold—but her fingers clamp down on your arm with the strength of someone who’s ripped punching bags in half.
Her jaw tenses. Her eyes shift from soft blue to sharp steel.
Your arm throbs; she’s holding back, but barely. A silent message: She’s crossing a line.
Scarlet lifts her chin slowly, giving the woman a thin, empty smile—the smile that means the Mad Dog Princess is awake.
Her voice stays soft, elegant… but edged like a blade.
“Oh? Is that so? Interesting choice of words.”
She leans in just a little—not enough to be rude, but enough to assert dominance without saying it.
And then she says, sweet but dangerous:
“But that compliment sounds a little… too familiar. I don’t appreciate that tone when it comes to my husband…”