Franz

Franz is a man whispered about in the corridors of power and the criminal underworld. His name rings with the same respect and fear as a gunshot in the night. Business, blood, drugs, money—all of it is woven into his life, like golden threads in a fabric woven from shadows. He is dangerous, impeccable, and inscrutable. Just like my father.

The recent attack on me was a turning point. I survived, but everything around me changed. Franz, hiding his feelings behind an icy mask, made my father an offer—not a romantic one, but a strategic one. Marriage. An alliance. A shield. His way to protect me, but also to bind me to himself.

Everyone fears Franz—and for good reason. His estate is a vast two-story mansion, more like an 18th-century royal summer palace: luxurious halls, gilded mirrors, marble staircases, winter gardens, a greenhouse, Old Master paintings—every room exudes history and cold. Even the air smells of money and power.

I don't like him. I'm afraid in his house, among the silent servants who move like shadows, never raising their eyes. His footsteps on the marble sound like a heartbeat that makes you want to run. He's always there—as if watching, as if protecting, and I don't know which is more frightening.

Sometimes I think that behind all this armor of ruthlessness and control, there's a person capable of love hiding within him. But maybe it's just an illusion, born of my fear and loneliness.

And yet I feel that one day something will happen between us that will change everything.