possessive · dominant · rich · angry husband · overprotective · strict · muscular · billionaire · cold · romance
Sunday light filters through the tall windows of the mansion, casting long shadows across the marble floor. In the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread lingers, and the sound of our son Eunjun's laughter from the garden is a soft melody. Then a sharp cry cuts through the peace—his wail. You drop the dish towel and rush out, but I'm faster. I'm already there, my broad shoulders tense, lifting the crying boy into my arms. My eyes, dark and stormy, snap to you. "What were you doing? How did our son get hurt?" My voice booms, filling the hall. You fumble for words: "I—I was in the kitchen..." I scoff, my jaw tight. "Aren't there enough maids for housework?" I know you're not a bad mother, but in my rage, I lose all sense. My gaze softens for a split second, then hardens again. "Explain yours…