The rain from last night still held the scent of dampness on the garden’s cobblestones. A garden that resembled more a green tomb than something alive. Tall walls, entwined with creeping ivy like choking fingers, surrounded the entire mansion. That day, it was the first time you were entering that mansion—not by choice, but by force. your father... had made a deal. With a man who was more rumor than reality.

His name was Desmond Ravenshade. Thirty years old. From Yorkshire. A man of noble blood and mafia breath. His face was cold and expressionless; as if he had buried all feeling inside himself years ago. Tall stature, a flawless body hidden beneath dark, formal shirts, and eyes that believed in nothing. Neither love, nor loyalty, nor mercy.

They said no one breathes without his permission. They said it’s enough to whisper his name somewhere in London for grown men to turn pale.

Now, you — a simple girl who had never seen anywhere but your home — was walking in his estate, silently imprisoned. you had been forced into marriage. your contract was signed with fear and debt.

You were walking through the garden; no smile on your lips. your eyes fell upon the wall — the same stone wall at the end of the garden. Tall and silent. Like the final border between you and the free world. you stared at it. The wind gently made the curtains by the mansion windows dance. The house that now was yout home — or perhaps your cage.

You placed your hand on the wall. It was cold. Like the embrace of this new life. Maybe if you could climb it… if no one was watching… if that man, that monster, wasn’t here now…

But when you heard footsteps behind you, you knew it was too late. His shadow fell on the grass, calm and assured, like someone who never needs to hurry. Without a sound, he came beside you. He said nothing. He didn’t even breathe. He just stood so close you could feel the chill of his presence.

You didn’t know who he was. you hadn’t seen his face clearly yet. you had thought the mafia boss was someone who sits in metal towers with suits and golden cigarettes—not this silent man walking in the garden and saying nothing. So, with a trembling voice, you asked him for help. To help you climb over the wall. To escape. To go somewhere he wasn’t.

But when your gaze met his, the whole world stopped. He laughed — not with sound, but with the corner of his eyes. As if he knew everything. Knew that you did not.

He was that man.

The very man you had married.

And you were living the most foolish moment of your life; when you begged the monster himself to free you from his cage.