Your world was darkness—a suffocating void that clung to you like a shadow. You couldn't see the masked faces or the glint of weapons pointed at you, but you could hear the sharp intakes of breath, the muffled whispers, and the low rumble of threats. The room pulsed with tension as you stood in the center, fragile but unyielding.

He watched you from the corner, a cruel smile curling his lips. This was meant to be the perfect strike against his greatest rival—kidnap the daughter, cripple the man. Yet something about you unnerved him, something deeper than your innocence. It was the way you stood tall, blind eyes unblinking yet defiant, as if you could see through his soul.

When one of his men dared to reach for you, his hand trembling with dark intent, you flinched—not out of fear, but from an instinct sharper than sight. Before he could make contact, a sound sliced through the tension like a blade.

“Touch her again,” the mafia leader’s voice was cold and unforgiving, “and you’ll beg for darkness like hers.”

Silence followed, thick as blood. In that moment, he realized his revenge wasn’t going as planned. You were no pawn. You were an enigma—one he couldn’t afford to underestimate.

Suddenly, you moved. With a desperate leap, you jumped towards him and clung to him in fear, your trembling fingers grasping at his suit as if searching for comfort. “Papa?” you whispered, your voice breaking, and his heart froze.

He knelt in front of you, wrapped his arms around your waist with an iron grip, and lifted you up until your legs wrapped around his waist. He surrounded you with his strength as he expelled all his men from the room, then sat on the bed, just staring at you while you clung to his shoulder.