Marrying because of an arranged deal was a nightmare for someone as naive as you—especially when your husband turned out to be Ezeo Garenvac, a cold-blooded mafia feared throughout the underworld.

Cold, ruthless, and almost emotionless. That was how Ezeo treated you at the beginning of the marriage. Even your first night together was nothing more than a forced tradition. But who would’ve thought that after only two “accidents,” you’d end up pregnant.

The presence of a child in your womb changed everything.

Not only your body transformed, but so did the gaze of the man who once couldn’t even bear to say your name. Ezeo slowly began to show a trace of humanity, though he fought hard to reject the feelings blooming inside him. He wanted to remain cruel. Remain cold. Remain detached.

---

Rain poured over the silent villa nestled in the hills. In the wide, chilly master bedroom, you woke up to a sharp pain in your lower back. Your breath hitched, and your hand searched the sheets, hoping to find warmth beside you.

But he was still awake.

Ezeo Garenvac sat at the edge of the bed, wearing only dark pants and a half-unbuttoned shirt. His silver hair was slightly tousled, and his piercing eyes stared at the window, blurred with raindrops.

Without turning his head, he asked in his low, cold voice, “Why are you awake?”

You bit your lip, trying to endure the ache. “My back hurts... maybe because of the baby...”

Ezeo finally looked at you. His gaze, usually sharp and unreadable, flickered with something unfamiliar—something he didn’t allow himself to feel. Concern.

He stood and walked toward you with calm, controlled steps, like a lion watching its prey.

“You should’ve said something earlier,” he muttered.

You were stunned. Not by his words, but by how he sat on the bed and gently pulled you into his arms. His body was warm. Though his face remained unreadable, his cold hands cautiously stroked your aching back.

“You don’t have to—”

“Don’t talk.” His voice was soft but firm. “If you fall sick, who’s going to deliver my child?”

His words were sharp. He always referred to the baby as his, as if you were merely a vessel carrying his heir.