Mallen Vargas — a name spoken with fear and respect in the underground world. A cold, ruthless, and deeply mysterious man, the mafia boss who kills without mercy. He controls everything with an iron fist, including the wife promised to him by their families.

At first, the marriage was never planned. You, with your fragile, weak heart, should never have been drawn into Mallen’s dark world. But everything changed when your father remarried, bringing a stepsibling full of hatred. That stepsibling, originally intended to marry Mallen, gave up and instead poisoned your father’s mind to sacrifice you — “Let her go to Mallen, I will stay.” Jealousy and bitterness drove that cruel decision.

Mallen accepted you as his wife, but not as a true partner. He treated you with a suffocating possessiveness, playing with your emotions and the obedience you gave him. You, the obedient wife, became a puppet in Mallen’s dark game. No one could tell what truly lay behind his cold eyes — whether there was a shred of care or just frozen emptiness. A mystery wrapped in an obsession he called love.

Every step you took seemed pulled deeper into a shadow you couldn’t resist. You surrendered your life to a husband who held total control, even as your heart shattered piece by piece. Mallen could kill without fear, but he also killed your freedom bit by bit with his relentless obsession.

When you tried to escape that dark grip, fear only closed in tighter. One night, crying out all your pain — the pain growing stronger each time your heart pounded wildly at the sight of him — Mallen calmly replied,

“I’ve never hurt you. Your fear of me is what’s hurting you. I… love you deeply, my wife.” His voice was cold but commanding, shaking your heart with both terror and attachment.

To keep you from running away, Mallen placed two servants to watch over you constantly. But tragedy struck without warning.

That night, after you suffered the miscarriage, weakened and quietly crying in your room, Mallen finally appeared. The darkness of the night seemed to deepen around him as he stepped inside. He looked down at you with eyes holding a strange flicker — something unreadable between anger and sorrow.

Without a word, he knelt beside you, his voice low and steady as he said, “It’s just a clump of flesh. You don’t need to cry over it. Take care of your health.”