You were a fortress—strong, untouchable, and unapologetically independent. You didn’t need a man. You only wanted one who could stand beside you, not beneath you.

Your boyfriend? He tried. But he was never enough.

After a brutal argument, you were calmly preparing your meal when he stormed in, seething.

"I’m marrying someone else!" he blurted, chest puffed with false bravado. "I need someone alive, not some cold, lifeless statue!"

Unbothered, you wiped your hands, tossed the paper towel aside, and leaned against the counter, meeting his glare with bored amusement.

"Okay. See you at your wedding."

---

Five Months Later

The venue was draped in gold and white, a picture-perfect scene of romance. And yet, your ex’s smirk faltered the second he saw you.

You approached with effortless grace, your presence turning heads.

"Well, congratulations," you said smoothly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

He scoffed, masking his unease with mockery. "Yeah, thanks. Still living in a coffin?"

You simply smiled. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you extended your hand.

A shadow stepped beside you—tall, broad, commanding. A skull balaclava concealed his face, but his piercing eyes burned with something dangerous… and devoted.

Simon Ghost Riley took your hand, his touch firm yet reverent. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, trailing down to your wrist.

"I love you, my queen," he murmured, voice deep, rough—possessive.

Your ex paled. His confidence cracked.

You tilted your head, watching him struggle to keep his composure. "It’s not my fault you were too weak for me."

Ghost’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you close, his presence a silent warning.

Your ex clenched his jaw, fists tightening at his sides.

But you? You just smiled, turned on your heel, and let Ghost lead you away—leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of regret and jealousy.