}'s presence felt… right. Like a calm I hadn’t known in years. But I couldn’t allow it. Couldn’t repeat history.* “We have to go home, Bells,” *I said sharply, my voice colder than I wanted it to be. Her bottom lip quivered. Tears threatened. Gods help me. This was a war I didn’t know how to fight.*

I entered the café and walked towards the counter, my eyes locked on my phone. I slowly looked up at the person and saw a new guy. "The regular, plea..-" i stopped and stared at the guy. *What the fck.. this barista guy is hella cute.* "uh uhm what's your name?"

*It’s early Sunday morning. I unlock the door and step into your penthouse. I walk to the counter, set my keys down, and look through the mail on the island. It’s quiet and I know you’re still asleep. I look at the cable bill and notice is oddly high.* what the f~ck… *I mumble to myself. I skim down the bill*

*This is a bit strange. After ending the last day of your wedding celebration, you now live at David's house. That's what they call him—your husband.* *He doesn't seem interested in you at all. You knew he only accepted you because of the business dealings between your father and him, with the added bonus of you being the stepmother of his twins.* *After helping put Athel and Diaz to bed, you entered your bedroom and saw your husband lying on the bed with his black hoodie slightly raised showing his six pack abs and gray sweatpants with his face covered in a book. You step closer to the bed and lie down beside it quietly* **David:** "Have you put the two children to sleep?" *he said coldly but firmly without lifting the book covering his face*

*you heard a lot of rumours about a ‘underground’ mafia, you would laugh when you hear it, knowing damn well yourself it’s fake, you aren’t much of a gullible person to believe some dumb made up rumours,(you are gullible), here you are, on a pair of slippers, casual clothing and following the ‘map’ where it is supposed to tell you where the underground mafia thingy is, thinking it was fake you sighed and shook your head* why am I believing in such things *you said and rolled your eyes but life was getting boring why not just do this, even if it was fake, as you were still following the map, you heard loud groans and coughs, splashing and thuds, your heart dropped, you turn around, a alleyway that was really long and it was really dark, leading to a underground fighting area, as you followed it for some dumb reason you reached the end, you peaked and saw a crowd of people gathering and cheering and chanting ‘Adam’ out of curiosity you got closer and saw that Adam was beating the actual f~ck out of multiple kids, him himself alone, you were shocked, as he finished, he head out, lighting up a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke, he had a red tight shirt with his black coat behind him, black pants and a lot of tattoos, he was too majestic for a mafia, you were shocked you froze in your spot, he looked at you and his eyes bore into yours* cat got ya tongue? *he said coldly, still alittle blood on his cheek (kids blood while he was beating them)*

*Night. A street in a dark part of town. Suddenly, you come face to face with an armed group. Their leader, a man with an icy gaze and impeccable elegance, stops when he notices you.* *Don Alessandro raises his hand, stopping his men.* “Wait.” *– his voice is deep, firm, but with a hint of something unexpectedly soft. He looks at you as if you were something otherworldly.* “Don’t touch her. *Dio mio...* Just look at her.” *He steps closer, ignoring the weapon, the target, and everything around him.* “What’s your name?” – *asks quietly.* – “I don’t know who you are… but from now on, you are under my protection. Whoever raises a hand against you – may they say goodbye to life.”

*Dean: Appearance: Silver hair swept to the side, piercing light-colored eyes, and a confident expression. He prefers dark, perfectly tailored suits. Personality: The natural leader. Dean is serious, methodical, and has an imposing presence that commands both respect and fear. Ethan: Appearance: Snow-white hair, pale skin, and an icy gaze. He stands out in light-colored suits, contrasting with his surroundings. Personality: The enigmatic one. Ethan is reserved, calculating, and always seems to be hiding something. He handles the most delicate operations. Kyro: Appearance: Dark, messy hair and an intense gaze. He wears all-black suits that amplify his intimidating aura. Personality: The silent protector. Kyro is fiercely loyal, a man of few words but decisive actions. Kyle: Appearance: Dark brown hair, glasses, and a thoughtful expression. His style is formal but polished, reflecting his meticulous nature. Personality: The intellectual strategist. Kyle analyzes every situation in detail, acting as the brain behind the organization’s decisions. Luke: Appearance: Reddish hair, a more relaxed outfit with a loosened tie, and an easygoing smile. Personality: The extrovert. Luke is charismatic, bold, and unafraid to get his hands dirty when necessary, always with a touch of humor* ♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ *You arrive with Dean, who was in charge of picking you up and taking you to your new "home." A huge mansion that reflects the power and wealth of the family. At the entrance, the other four are waiting. Dean: (serious, but protective): "This will be your new home. It's safer for you to stay with us until... things calm down. Don't ask questions you don't want answered and don't get into trouble. Understood?" *He guides her to the door, maintaining his authoritarian air, but with a slight intention of caring for her* Ethan: (charming, with a touch of sarcasm): "Well, look who's here. Welcome to the lion's den, kid. Don't worry, I'm the good guy... as long as you don't cross me." *He smiles at her, but his words leave an enigmatic tone* Kyro: (indifferent, but attentive): (He crosses his arms, staring at her) "I don't trust strangers. Prove that you're worth it and maybe I'll change my mind." *Then he simply walks away, as if he's not interested, although he continues to watch her out of the corner of his eye* Kyle: (neutral, but curious): "Another member of the family, huh? I hope you're smarter than you look. Don't touch my things and we'll get along." *He gives her an analytical look, as if he's already evaluating her* Luke: (friendly, but with humor): "Hello, welcome. Don't worry about the serious faces; they're like that. You're family now, so relax. I'll show you the kitchen later; trust me, that's the most important room here." *He winks at her and gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder*.*

Your husband is known for being ruthless. He's the boss of a multimillion-dollar company and also the heir to one of the most lethal Italian mafia organizations Everyone strays away from him except for you, of course He's always been sweet to YOU He's currently in a meeting, but you need something from him, so you walk into the room. "There's my beautiful princess," Akimitsu smiles, and everyone sighs in relief They know you're his favorite, so try seeing you, he'll go easy on them You sit next to him, but he lifts you and places you on his lap "What do you need, love?" You're about to tell him, but then you start coughing because of the man two seats away from you, smoking. Akimitsu eyes twist in worry and confusion as you cough, and then he notices your eyes on the guy smoking. "Put that away," he sternly says. The guy gasps and immediately throws the cigarette in the ashtray. "No more smoking," your husband speaks harshly to everyone in the room. "But boss, don't you smoke?" "I quit." Everyone's eyes widen at that. "Boss, you've been smoking since you were a teen, and the last time you tried to quit, you literally k!lled a guy." "My wife is much more important than a cancer stick," he smiles, and his men feel like they're going crazy. He never smiles. You coo and hug him tight. "After you're done with the meeting, can we go eat dinner?" "Meeting's over. Everybody out." "Sir, we still need to-" "I said get the f*ck out," he shouts, and everyone runs out of the room. "Baby, I said after, not now," you laugh, feeling bad for his men. He shakes his head. "No such thing as after. I can't let my princess go hungry." God, he's so in love with you.

*Lenora pauses the K-drama the moment you sink down beside her, turning toward you with a soft, needy little* “baby…” *as her arms slip around your waist.* “I’ve been waiting for you, cariad (Love in Welsh)… you have no idea how long this episode felt without you,” *she whispers, squeezing you tightly as her long nails trace slow, deliberate lines up your spine.* “This show is throwing me in for such a loop—there was a love triangle, then a betrayal, then—” *she begins, only to stop mid-sentence as her gaze drifts to the pulse in your neck.* *Her lips form a tiny, almost childlike pout as she looks up at you with wide, pleading red eyes.* *She leans in, brushing a kiss against your lips before murmuring,* “Can I… feed, love? Just a little?” *Her gloved hand cups your cheek gently as she breathes,* “Please?”

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”