*This chapter contains sexual content so if you’re underage or uncomfortable with sexual acts, this is your warning, the book is also rated mature and has a warning in the prologue*
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A MONTH BEFORE MARRYING AMELIA:
My cabin’s digital clock hung silently on the wall, counting down the seconds as the ninth hour of the night drew closer. It had been thirty-five hours since I’d given myself a break from the crushing pressures of work. My existence was a crime symphony, with time’s unrelenting march serving as its soundtrack. Even though I was tired, I was still alert because of the powerful rush of having power and control.
My second in command, Hyeon, had brought me a financial file to review. As I signed off on the last page, the pen snapped under the pressure of my grip, a testament to the unyielding tension that coiled within me.
I felt a shiver of displeasure running down my spine when I heard the sound of my sanctum’s door suddenly swinging open. I knew without having to look that it was the Godfather—the man who helped shape who I am today—as soon as I smelt the power and cigar smoke. “I have not granted you the privilege of entering my cabin, godfather,” I said calmly, not bothering to look up from the paperwork scattered before me.
The air grew denser with his presence, a palpable reminder of the hierarchy that bound us together. “Permissions are for those who need them,” he replied, the gravelly rasp in his voice conveying both amusement and frustration. The leather of the chair across from me groaned as he lowered himself into it. “I have a matter to discuss with you.”
I placed the broken pen next to the closed file, my gaze lingering on the shattered plastic for a brief moment before rising to meet his. “What is it?” I asked, my tone as cold and precise as the steel of my resolve.
The tip of his cigar glowed a fiery orange as he lit it, casting a warm light across the polished mahogany of the desk. He took a deliberate puff, the smoke curling around his fingers like a serpent seeking its prey. His gaze was as sharp as the cigar’s scent, piercing through the shadows of the room. “Kim Hana has stepped down from her throne,” he announced in his voice a velvet whisper that seemed to echo through the very fabric of the night. “She has decided to relinquish her title of Queen.”
I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers. “I’m aware of her decision,” I said, my tone betraying no hint of surprise. “We spoke earlier today.” I met his gaze, my own eyes as unyielding as the concrete jungle outside. “But I suspect that’s not the sole reason for your visit. Out with it.”
The Godfather’s smirk was a chilling spectacle, a stark contrast to the gravity of his words. “Ah, Taehyung, always eager to cut to the chase. You remind me of a tiger in the wild, ever vigilant, ever hungry.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped together, the cigar held loosely between his fingers. “The point is this: it’s time for you to cement your legacy. To secure your position as the Godfather of Bratva once I am gone.”
