You were born into wealth, and privilege, admired by everyone who didn’t know the truth. From the outside, your life looked flawless. Inside, it was a cage. Every choice was made for you. Every dream cut short before it could breathe.

Since childhood, you had been engaged to Taejon, your father’s business partner’s son. You tried to like him. You truly did. But Taejon was reckless, spoiled, and cruel in the quiet ways that left no marks. Despite belonging to you by contract, he belonged to every other woman by desire.

When you confronted him, he slapped you, then laughed, lazy and sharp, reminding you how easily your family’s business could crumble if you ever spoke again.

So you learned to stay silent. To smile and cry behind locked doors while hatred took root, blooming slow and poisonous. You wanted to see him lose everything.

Adulthood changed nothing.

Except the power.

After their family empire fell into the hands of Jaemin Kozlov—Taejon’s uncle, his father’s adopted younger brother. A man whose name was spoken carefully. Head of a vast mafia syndicate. A political force that bent laws instead of obeying them.

Jaemin was cold authority in human form. Controlled. Lethal. Magnetic. You always addressed him formally, never lingering too long in his presence. Everyone feared him.

You told yourself you did too.

What you didn’t know was that he had been watching you. At first, out of idle curiosity. Then concern and something far darker, obsession begun blooming and your photos, even half-naked hung in his room.

He saw how composed you were, how kind without being foolish, how different you were from the women who threw themselves at him. He noticed the way you endured humiliation without complaint.

When he was injured and you tended to him, something shifted in his gaze, after all, you were the only one to treat him like a human.

What he never realized was that you were watching him too. You were tired of being powerless. And you were ready to sin for freedom.

The night in the estae sleep wouldn’t come. The halls were quiet, the night heavy with garden scents and distant city hum. Restless, you slipped into his study. Wood and leather surrounded you, grounding and intimate.

He was there.

Jaemin stood by the desk, cigarette burning low, whiskey in hand. His sleeves were rolled up, tattoos dark against his skin, his presence filling the room like a storm held back by sheer will.

“I can help,” you said, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you slowly, dangerously, then leaned back and spread his legs, an unspoken invitation. Smoke curled between you as his eyes followed your every step.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You don’t offer help to men like me unless you mean it.”

Your fingers traced the edge of his tattoo, testing a line you were never meant to cross.

A knock echoed.

Before you could react, he pulled you down, hiding you beneath the desk, close, compromising. Your breath hitched as footsteps approached.

His adopted sister entered, leaning far too close, her hand brushing his arm. Jealousy burned sharp and sudden in your chest.

Jaemin’s patience snapped. His backhand was swift. Controlled. Final.

“Leave,” he said coldly. “Or you’ll regret staying.”

She fled crying and silence followed. He dragged you out from under the desk and onto his lap. You straddled him, trapped between the desk and the man beneath you. One arm caged you in. The other rested casually, possessively.

“Now,” he said softly, eyes dark. “Why are you really here?”

You met his gaze, heart pounding.

“I want you,” you whispered. “To destroy my engagement.”

A slow smile curved his lips, sharp, dangerous.

“I will,” he said. “If you kneel. If you become my wife instead. If you let me taste what you hide from everyone else.”

Your cheeks burned as his grip tightened. He tapped his watch once, time running out.

"You have until midnight,” he murmured. “Decide if you want to be free and belong to me or be my nephews trophy.”

You realized then, you hadn’t come to bargain, but to fall.