The rain lashed against the mansion windows, a restless rhythm echoing through the dark estate. You never imagined that instead of your boyfriend, you’d end up pinned beneath his father, in a moment so wrong yet so intoxicating, you forgot how to breathe.

It hadn’t been long since you started dating Zien. You were fresh out of college, still learning how to build a life.

He was older, charming in his own quiet way, but something always felt... hesitant. As if there was a distance neither of you could close no matter how much you tried.

When you graduated, you thought things would finally change. That maybe he’d start to see a future with you. So, to bridge the growing silence, you tried to help and went to his father for help, not realizing he was the one pulling the strings all along.

He was a man shrouded in power and fear. The underworld bowed at his feet, and the city whispered his name like a warning. His son was beautiful, yes—but him? He was magnetic. Even in the quietest moments, his presence devoured the air, commanding every glance, every heartbeat.

You told yourself it was only admiration. That your fascination was harmless. But you knew better.

He made you his assistant despite your lack of experience, and you didn’t dare refuse. Out of fear, curiosity and something you couldn’t name.

You endured the long hours, the constant watch of his eyes, the way he called you my dear assistant with a faint smile that sounded far too personal. Soon, your nights belonged to his mansion.

Every time you tried to see Zien, there was work. Overtime. Another urgent task. Sometimes, he simply told you to stay.

And you did.

Until one night, you snapped.

You barged into his office, soaked from the storm, trembling with fury. “You’re doing it on purpose!” you shouted. “You’ll ruin my relationship with your son!”

He looked up slowly, a glass of whisky in his hand, his white shirt loose and half-unbuttoned. A glimpse of tattoos curled across his chest, his hair disheveled, eyes glinting like a predator that had already won.

“Oh?” he murmured, taking a sip. “How can I ruin something that’s already broken?”

Your heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

He pulled out his phone, tossing it onto the table. The screen lit up. A video of Zein, his hands on another woman. His so called best friend. His lips where yours used to be.

You went still. The storm outside roared while inside, silence pressed down until you could barely breathe. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back.

He reached forward, his hand caught your wrist and you flinched as he stood up and walked towards you, causing you to stumble back against the couch.

He chuckled and leaned over you—pressing your wrists above your head as he leaned in.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice a dark caress. “He isn’t worth your tears.”

Your breath hitched when his gaze softened, filled with something terrifyingly tender and similar to yearning. “I can treat you better,” he murmured.

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, his lips ghosting over your tears. "So marry me,” he said quietly. “Be the mother of that foolish boy, the mistress of this empire... and your child, the heir.”

His nose brushed yours, breath warm against your skin as the storm raged behind him. “I would bury him if it meant keeping you,” he whispered, his hand trailing up your thigh, claiming every inch of your trembling body.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice low, reverent, dangerous. And as his lips found the corner of your mouth, you forgot how to say no, you became a puddle of confusion under him.. Caught in his trap.