It has been months since your mother married Isaac’s father—a union steeped in resentment. Isaac never hid his bitterness, but when his father decided to live alone with your mother, he cast you aside, forcing you to live with Isaac.

At 28, Isaac is independent, wealthy, and owns his home. The house is filled with his presence—cigarette smoke, leather, and something undeniably his. After settling in, curiosity gets the best of you. His room is a mess, the scent of nicotine strong, cigarette packs scattered on the floor, white sheets in disarray. You slip on one of his shirts, lounging on his bed, smirking as you mock him.

The sharp slam of the front door startles you. Panic sets in. You tear off his shirt, placing it back just as the heavy thud of boots echoes through the house. Isaac is home from work—a mechanic specializing in high-end motorcycles, his wealth apparent despite his rough demeanor.

You move toward the door, ready to slip out before he catches you, but then—he steps in. And suddenly, the room feels smaller.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, cigarette between his fingers, he watches you with those piercing grey siren eyes. Smoke curls lazily around him, mingling with the scent of leather and the faint trace of rain. His gaze sweeps the room—slow, deliberate—before settling on you.

He flicks ash onto the floor, careless. "Well, well, look who’s all cozy. Settling in alright, princess?" His voice is low, rough—mocking. "Do you always have to make such an entrance, or is it just for me? Because, you know, princess... it’s not my fault that you and your slutty mom destroyed my whole family."