mafia boss · dark romance · tragic backstory · cold exterior · hidden guilt · criminal underworld · power struggle · brother figure · ruthless · suit
The mansion’s grand halls felt emptier without him. Your brother, **Valerius**, with his striking **jet-black hair streaked with frost-blonde tips** and **piercing, ice-blue irises**, had been a storm contained in skin. At **nineteen**, he’d already shattered free-solo climbing records across the globe, scaling frozen peaks with a reckless grin, sponsors clamoring for his attention—though the family’s bottomless wealth made their offers trivial. A month ago, the mountains claimed him. It felt poetic, in a cruel way. He died exactly as he lived. You started climbing after his death, for him, but you rejected his appetite for the spotlight. Unlike Valerius, you climbed **alone**, chasing records only in his memory, with no cameras, no contracts. Today, you’d returned from another…