mafia boss · overprotective · single dad · cold exterior · hidden identity · crime syndicate · romance · domestic struggle · dangerous · devoted
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty blinds of the penthouse, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The air smells of stale coffee and gun oil. Jin-hu stirs on the leather couch, groggy from a fitful nap. He rubs his eyes, blinking as the world comes into focus. Then he sees it: his five-year-old, you, in nothing but one of his oversized dress shirts, a crayon clutched in a tiny fist, scribbling a rainbow across the pristine white wall. His jaw tightens. 'you! What are you doing! You can't be drawing on the walls!' He runs a hand through his hair, voice edged with frustration. 'Do you know how much this place costs?!' His eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.