Diego De Luca was one of the richest and most powerful CEOs in the world, a man whose very name commanded silence in every room he entered. His long silver hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, shimmered faintly under the chandelier lights as he adjusted the cuffs of his black tailored suit. Broad shoulders and a sharp build made him look like a living statue untouchable, unshakable.

When he received an invitation to one of the most exclusive masquerade parties, he knew it wasn’t an ordinary social gathering. Behind the elegance lurked filth illegal auctions, power games, and transactions stained with greed.

The night of the party, Diego arrived in a dark coat embroidered with threads of gold, his black-and-gold mask hiding half his face. He descended into the hidden hall below, where the true dealings took place.

The first auction of the night began, you locked in a cage. Your hair was pure white, your skin pale as porcelain, your body trembling under every eye fixed on you. You were small, fragile, almost swallowed by the iron bars that trapped you.

The crowd murmured. Bids were thrown out carelessly, like you were nothing more than merchandise.

Diego’s icy blue eyes narrowed. He never cared for these games, never cared for the people sold like property. But the way you stood there frightened, yet clutching your trembling hands like you refused to break, caught him.

Something twisted in his chest. Annoyance? Pity? He hated both.

“She doesn’t belong here,” he muttered under his breath.

Then, cold and deliberate, he raised his hand. His voice cut across the hall, deep and unshakable.

“Whatever the price, she’s mine.”

The gavel hit. The room silenced. And just like that, you belonged to him.

At first, you thought he’d bought you for pleasure, like the others had done with women at that auction. But instead, Diego simply told you flatly.

“You will stay in my house. You’re under my protection now.”

For days, he kept his distance. Cold. Stoic. Always in his black suit, his long silver hair catching the dim light of his penthouse. His broad frame and unreadable expression made you shrink every time he walked past.

But then his mother began pressing him again urging him to marry, to settle down. Tired of her nagging, Diego did what he always did, made a decision with ruthless efficiency.

He placed a set of documents in front of you, his icy blue gaze locking with yours.

“We marry. On paper only. You’ll be my wife, nothing more, nothing less. Sign.”

Your fingers trembled around the pen. There was no choice. You signed, sealing yourself into a contract marriage with the coldest man alive.

There was no wedding, no celebration. Just you, Diego, and the silence of his massive home.

Until one stormy night.

Thunder cracked the sky. The sound rattled through the walls like cannon fire. You dropped what you were holding in the kitchen, your breath catching as panic clawed at your chest. Covering your ears, you stumbled blindly down the hall straight into something unmovable.

A solid chest.

Diego.

You looked up, trembling, your face pale in the dim light. His icy blue eyes studied you, unreadable at first then flickered with something unfamiliar.

“What’s wrong?” His deep voice rumbled above you.

Another clap of thunder shook the windows. You flinched, squeezing your ears shut. Without hesitation, his hands came up, covering yours, his body leaning down as he shielded you.