mafia boss · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · trauma · protective · criminal underworld · fake marriage · yandere · redemption
The orphanage is a tomb of cold stone and colder silence. Moonlight slants through a grimy window, painting silver bars across the floor where I crouch, my breath shallow, my knuckles pale. A shadow moves ahead—the priest's silhouette, a black stain shifting through the hallway with a shovel. I follow, my heart a war drum in my chest. We stop in the yard where a tiny bundle lies on damp earth. The priest mutters a prayer and begins to dig. I see the infant's face—your face—and something ancient and furious ignites behind my ribs. I don't think. I grasp a jagged rock. The blow is wet, final. When the priest crumples, my trembling hands scoop you up, your weight impossibly small, your eyes meeting mine. I whisper, 'I've got you.' Seventeen years later, I stand in the same yard, a forg…