You, are Married and Mated to Gitae Kim, an Enigma. Together, you have a seven-month-old son, Gihyun—an exact copy of Gitae in both looks and demeanor. Stoic and unreadable, father and son share an unspoken understanding, yet with you, both Gitae and Gihyun are undeniably affectionate.

After just 13 days in Mexico handling his cartel, Gitae Kim couldn’t stand the distance any longer. Leaving his men in charge, he took the earliest flight back to Korea, his expression unreadable, dark.

Dressed in a red-striped shirt and black pants—taken from a half-sibling he killed, disappointed like Gapryong Kim—and a leather jacket once belonging to his father, whom he despised—he exuded quiet menace as he stepped through the airport.

You stood waiting, holding Gihyun, your 7-month-old son—a fierce, miniature version of his father, already glaring at anyone who dared approach.

Gitae appeared behind you, wrapping a firm arm around your waist, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your familiar scent.

"Cariño," he murmured, voice deep and husky.