His face came back so clearly it almost hurt. That easy smile. That quiet confidence. The way he looked at me like I was… worth something. Ezekiel’s older brother. The second mafia prince of the syndicate. The one who was supposed to take everything before it all fell apart.
I was nothing when Hunter found me. Just a kid sold into this life, passed around, used, stepped on. I learned early not to fight back because it only made things worse. I kept my head down, did what I was told, endured whatever came.
Until one day…
They cornered me. A few of the older staff, smiling, cruel, and bored. I remember thinking… this is it. This is how it ends.
And then he walked in.
Hunter didn’t even raise his voice. He just looked at them, and that was enough. They backed off immediately, like they remembered who he was.
He came over to me after, “You alright?” he asked, voice softer than I expected.
I couldn’t answer. I just stared at him.
From that day on… he didn’t leave me alone. Not really. He’d bring me food from outside, things I’d never tasted. He’d check on me when I was sick, sometimes showing up with medicine before I even knew I needed it. He never made it loud. He just… stayed.
And somewhere along the way, I started waiting for him. I didn’t even notice when it turned into something more. But I knew. We both knew. Even if we never said it out loud.
Because what was the point?
He was who he was.
And I was… this.
Still, one night, he held my hand. “Wyna, wait for me, okay? I’ll make a name for myself. I’ll earn it properly. And when I do… I’ll come back and ask for you. The right way.”
I believed him.
I waited. Day after day. Year after year.
And then the news came.
He died.
Gone in some deal that turned into a war. No body. No closure. Nothing left except words.
My world didn’t shatter. It just stopped.
But I remembered what I told him. That no matter what happened, I’d still be his.
In life.
Or in death.
That was when I heard it.
Ezekiel was going to be sent into enemy territory again, part of a larger mafia negotiation between families, a hostage move, nothing new in this world. But to me… it wasn’t just politics. It was a door, a thin, shaking door I could finally push open.
He wasn’t favored, not really. Third prince, lowest in standing because of his mother’s background, always treated like he was replaceable. But I knew better. I had seen him close enough. He wasn’t weak. He just hadn’t been given the chance to become dangerous yet.
And I gambled everything on that. If he rose… I could reach my own end too. So I followed him. Not because I was loyal, but because I was desperate and I won.
He did rise.
Ezekiel became the head of everything. Mafia boss. Untouchable. The kind of man people whispered about instead of speaking to directly.
And now there was going to be a formal gathering where he rewarded everyone who helped him get here. That was my moment. Not for power. Not for status. I didn’t want to stand beside him. I didn’t want his world. I wanted something else entirely.
I would kneel in front of him and ask for one thing only. An official order. A legal recognition that I could marry Hunter. Even if Hunter was dead. Even if the world moved on. Let me be recorded as his wife. Let me enter his family name properly. Let me belong to him in life and death, just like I promised.
Was that too much to ask?
I didn’t think so. For once… I felt warm thinking about it, like maybe everything I suffered wasn’t just pointless.
Then reality pulled me back.
Reed came to me.
“Miss Elowyn,” he said carefully. “Boss didn’t really eat tonight. He said his stomach’s acting up again and… he wants the soup you used to make.”
I froze for a second.
That soup.
I remembered it too clearly. Back when Ezekiel was still sent out as a hostage in enemy territories, when everything around him was unstable and he couldn’t eat anything without getting sick. I used to cook it for him every day because nothing else stayed down in his system.
Over time, it became a habit. No, worse than that. Dependence. He stopped accepting it from anyone else. Only me. Only my hands.
So I sighed quietly and forced myself up even though my body still felt heavy. My legs were sore, my head dull, but I didn’t argue. I went to the small kitchen and made it. Same recipe. Same steps. Same silence.
While stirring the pot, I thought, is this all I am now? A memory he refuses to let go of? Or just something useful?
When it was done, I held the bowl carefully and was about to hand it to Reed, but he shook his head.
“You should take it yourself,” he said. “He won’t accept it from me anyway. Boss has always been like that. He relies on you for things he doesn’t even notice. Miss Cassandra… it’s different now, but maybe he’s just confused. Maybe he’ll realize soon…”
I didn’t listen to the rest. I just tightened my grip on the bowl.
“I don’t care,” I said softly. “I don’t care who he chooses.”
And I meant it.
I walked toward his room and stopped in front of the door. My hand hovered for a second. My chest felt tight, but it shouldn’t have. So I pushed it open anyway.
And I froze.
Inside, Ezekiel was there, not alone. Cassandra was in his arms, her hair slightly messy, her clothes half undone, and his mouth was on hers like nothing else in the world existed outside that moment.
It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t accidental. It was real.
I stood there, holding the soup, completely still.
The door barely opened before everything changed.
Cassandra jolted and she quickly pulled herself closer into Ezekiel’s arms, clinging to him as if I was some kind of threat that had just walked in uninvited.
Then she pointed at me.
“You—!”
