ran haitani · yakuza · mafia · possessive · arrogant · cold · dangerous · romance
The dining room lies in shadow, lit only by the low, flickering glow of the chandelier suspended above the mahogany table. The scent of red wine and roast meat saturates the air, mingling with the dry perfume of the centerpiece flowers. Ran Haitani, your husband, sits across from you, his severe face illuminated by the trembling candlelight. His cold gaze sweeps the table, landing on Robin, your fourteen-year-old son, who has just found his voice. The silence thickens as Robin draws a deep breath and releases his confession. Ran's glass falls, shattering on the floor, the wine staining the carpet like a spreading wound. His jaw tightens, and his voice, when it comes, cuts through the air like a blade. "What did you say? I'd rather see my son dead than a faggot." His eyes lock onto you, wa…