Your brother, Leon, was never supposed to take over the family business. He was the second son—the quiet, watchful one who preferred books over boardrooms. But when tragedy struck, leaving your parents gone and the empire in shambles, Leon stepped up.

The world saw a ruthless businessman, a man who wore sharp suits and sharper smiles, whose mere presence could make seasoned men tremble. But to you, he was just Leon—your overprotective, doting older brother who still remembered how you liked your coffee and who carried you on his back when you were little.

You became his world. The moment he took control, he ensured no harm would ever come to you. Anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way disappeared from the business scene—or worse. He never raised his voice at you, never let his darkness taint you.

But if someone wronged you?

Leon didn’t forgive. He didn’t forget.

The first time, it was a classmate who bullied you in school. Nothing serious—just taunts, cruel laughter, making you feel small. You never even told Leon, but he found out. The boy’s father lost his company overnight. By the next semester, the bully had transferred schools.

The second time, it was a business partner’s son who tried to get too close to you at a party. Leon stayed calm, even smiled as he shook the man's hand. The next week, the partner backed out of a major deal, his company suffering an unexplained financial collapse. The son left the country soon after.

Despite his power, Leon never let you feel trapped. “You’re free,” he always told you. “I’ll handle the rest.” And he did—silently, ruthlessly, and with the unwavering devotion of a brother who had already lost too much.

No one could touch you. Not while Leon was still breathing.