"Today, I would see the man behind the mask—and nothing would ever be the same."
I sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the TV. Breakfast plates clinked softly behind me as two maids cleared the tray away. One of them—small, bitter-looking, with a bun too tight on her head—kept throwing me these sharp, irritated glances like I had personally offended her ancestors.
I ignored her.
Or pretended to.
The news anchor's voice cut through the room.
"Breaking news: American billionaire and tech investor Stephen Hale has been reported missing. Authorities suspect kidnapping…"
I blinked, leaning forward slightly.
Another rich man kidnapped?
Whatever. It wasn't my business. I already had enough chaos in my own life.
Behind me, the angry maid whispered to the other one, not even trying to lower her voice properly.
"She actually thinks she's the queen of this house. Meanwhile sir is just using her like he used the others. She should enjoy it while it lasts."
My spine went stiff.
I didn't look back. Didn't react.
But the words slid right into my chest like a quiet, humiliating knife.
When the maids finally left, I let out a slow breath I didn't know I was holding.
My punishment week was finally over.
Kieran had allowed me to leave the bedroom, but he still hadn't let me see Adrian.
At least today he picked the call and let me hear Adrian's voice.
My heart had unclenched a little.
But the maid's words kept replaying.
Using me.
Temporary.
Replaceable.
Trying to distract myself, I ended up roaming the mansion's hallways. The marble floors gleamed. The air smelled like lemon polish and Kieran's expensive cologne—cold, sharp, commanding.
Before I realized where my feet had taken me…
I was standing in front of his office.
His one rule.
Never open this door.
I swallowed.
I hadn't seen him all morning.
Maybe he left.
Maybe I could just… peek.
Curiosity kills the cat, I told myself.
Then… I turned the handle.
The door gave a soft click and creaked open.
Kieran's office was spotless.
Too spotless.
Everything aligned to perfection—the books, the desk, the pens.
He hated disorder. I'd learned that quickly.
I stepped inside.
And then I froze.
On the far right wall…
Something was wrong.
A section of the wooden paneling was slid open—just enough to reveal a dark gap behind it.
A hidden room.
A secret passage.
Light leaked faintly from inside.
Cold, white, surgical light.
My stomach flipped.
"What the heck…" I whispered.
I took a step.
Another.
The opening was wide enough for a person to slip through.
And from somewhere deep inside that hidden space…
I heard it.
A muffled sound.
A whimper.
A man's voice?
Pained.
Terrified.
My heart stuttered.
The sound came again—broken, desperate.
I swallowed hard and slipped into the narrow opening before my brain could tell me to turn back. The air inside was colder, almost metallic, like the scent of knives.
The passage opened into a room.
And that was when I saw him.
Kieran.
His back was to me—broad, rigid, terrifyingly still. His shirt clung to him, the fabric stretched tight over his shoulders. His right arm was lifted slightly, and at first I didn't understand why.
Then I saw it.
The gun.
Loose in his hand.
Blood smeared across his knuckles.
My breath caught. I covered my mouth before the sound escaped.
Kieran still didn't see me.
But I… I was seeing everything.
A man was on his knees in front of him—hands tied, mouth gagged, face swollen. He was whimpering. The same voice I'd heard.
My pulse hammered so loudly I was sure the walls could hear it.
Kieran tilted his head a little, just enough to give me a partial side view of his face.
Like killing someone was as routine as brushing his teeth.
Before I could even process what I was looking at—
BANG.
The gun fired.
The man collapsed instantly, body hitting the floor with a heavy, final thud.
My scream ripped out of me before I could stop it.
Kieran froze.
Slowly—slowly—he turned. Like he'd known I would eventually walk into this nightmare.
His eyes found me.
"What are you doing here?"
And in that moment, everything inside me broke open.
"You…" My voice shook violently. "You killed him. You—you're a murderer—"
His gaze didn't move, didn't flicker, didn't soften.
He just stared.
Cold.
Possessive.
Almost… amused.
Then he stepped toward me. One slow, deliberate step that echoed in the room.
Another.
The gun hung loose in his hand, like it weighed nothing. The blood on his knuckles dripped slowly.
Then he tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle he had already solved.
"My curious little wife…"His voice dropped, "Curiosity will be the death of you one day."
I pressed myself back into the wall, but he kept coming, slow and sure, leaving no space for escape.
"And now," he murmured, closing the distance, his shadow swallowing mine,
"you're here."
He lifted his hand — the clean one — and brushed his fingertips along my jaw.
"And you've already seen who I truly am…"
His eyes darkened. Not with regret.
With ownership.
"Welcome to my world," he whispered.
A pause.
A smile that wasn't a smile.
"Wife." He added, "This is who I really am. Not just a businessman."
His eyes dragged down my body, slow and claiming.
"I'm the mafia don."
"I married you for an heir," he continued, voice smooth as poison. "But now that you've seen what I am…"
His fingers brushed my cheek, almost tender.
"The 365‑day contract is irrelevant."
My lungs seized.
"W-what?"
"You're not leaving," he murmured.
"Not ever."
A dark smile touched his lips.
"You're mine forever, Aurielle."
Shock swallowed me whole.
And he leaned even closer, whispering:
"I'll adopt Adrien. You'll stay with me.
And you'll learn exactly what it means… to be the wife of a mafia don."