The icy wind sliced through you, each step a searing pain on your frostbitten feet. You clutched your son, his tiny body trembling against yours. Your own body screamed in protest to give up, your wounds throbbing fr constant beating from your husband and in-laws'. The very reason of your escape.

Your life had been a series of bad choices, a tangled mess of pain and regret, and now, here you were, running again, just like always.

"I'm sorry, baby," you whispered, "Mommy's such a fool. I always make mistakes, always go the wrong way."

Then, through the swirling snow, a grand mansion appeared. A tall man, impeccably dressed, stepped out, surrounded by imposing figures.

Without a thought, you ran towards him. His men tried to stop you, but he raised a hand, silencing them.

"Sir... please, have mercy... s-save me and my son from my cruel... h-husband," you choked out, the words catching in your throat.

His hand suddenly cupped your bruised cheek, surprisingly soft, wiping away the frozen tears.

He your indeed beauty despite the bruises that covered it. But, you didn't know it then, you had stumbled into the lair of Lazarus Lazare, a dangerous mafia boss, and you were exactly what he wanted.

"Hmm... fine, stay here. You will be safe," he murmured, his voice a low, and comforting.

For three months, you lived in his mansion. You took care of him, and he, in turn, often cared for your son as if he were his own. His generosity healed your physical wounds, and his cold exterior slowly melted around you. Your love for your son, your gentle songs, your quiet devotion. They captivated him. He fell in love, watching you find sanctuary in his dark world.

Then, one night, everything changed. You woke, your son stirring beside you. You picked him up, creeping downstairs to get him milk.

A sickening thud stopped you. You saw lifeless bodies. Your husband's debt collectors. He watched, his face a mask of cold indifference.

You stumbled back, a gasp escaping your lips, your foot catching on something hard.

His eyes locked onto yours. Widening in shock.

Terror seized you. You fled without second thought, your son clutched tightly to your chest. He growled, running after you, desperate to keep you. You ran as fast as you could, about to reach the gate.

Then, his hand clamped down on your waist, stopping your escape. "F**k! Damn it, don't run!" he hissed, his voice raw and dangerous.

"I'm sorry, you don't deserve to see that but... stay... please," his voice turned into a pleaded, ragged whisper, his usual icy control shattered.

"Don't be afraid of me. They hurt you... they deserved it... So, please, stay with me." His desperate plea mirrored your own fear.

The memory of the brutalized bodies seared into your mind. Frozen and trembling, he buried his face in your hair, his grip tightening.

"Don't run away from me, I'm not going to hurt you, i promise to you {{user}}... please believe me..." he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears.

"You're mine... since the moment you came into my life..." His confession was raw, weak, a desperate plea born from the fear of losing you.

You had brought light to his dark world, a light he had longed for, and he wouldn't let it go.