MAY'S POV
It took me three days to realize Danny Morgan was not just a "businessman."
The first clue was the guards.
They were everywhere.
At first I thought it was just security. Rich people had security, right? That was normal. That was what happened when someone owned a house the size of a palace and cars that probably cost more than everything I had touched in my entire life.
But the longer I stayed in the mansion, the harder it became to ignore them.
There were guards at the front gate—two men standing beside the iron bars like silent statues. There were guards inside the house too, positioned in the hallways with quiet, watchful eyes. I saw them near the garden paths, beside the staircase, and sometimes even outside the kitchen doors.
They never spoke unless spoken to.
They never relaxed.
And every single one of them carried a gun.
Not hidden.
Not subtle.
Just resting calmly against their sides like it belonged there.
At first I tried to convince myself it was normal.
Maybe rich men had enemies. Maybe this was just how powerful people protected themselves.
But then the phone calls started.
And suddenly nothing felt normal anymore.
One afternoon, I sat alone in the living room, curled up at the far end of the enormous couch. The thing was so big—and so ridiculously soft—that I still felt a little nervous sitting on it. Every time I shifted my weight, the cushions sank deeper beneath me, like they might swallow me whole if I moved too much.
The television murmured quietly in the background, filling the silence with voices and laughter from some show I wasn't really watching. My eyes were on the screen, but my mind kept drifting. I was still getting used to things most people probably stopped noticing years ago—electric lights that came on with the flip of a switch, hot water pouring endlessly from a shower, and refrigerators so full of food that the shelves looked like they might burst. Sometimes I caught myself just standing there, staring at them like they were some kind of magic trick I couldn't quite figure out.
Danny's house was always busy, though not with the kind of noise I was used to. There were maids, cooks, cleaners—more staff than I could keep track of. But none of them ever really talked to me the way normal people would. Everything stayed polite. Professional. Distant.
"Breakfast is ready, Miss May."
"You're not supposed to do that, Miss May. Cleaning is our job."
Little things like that. Short conversations that ended as quickly as they started, like invisible lines had been drawn that no one wanted to cross.
So most of the time, I just kept to myself.
Anyway… that was when Danny walked in.
He was already on the phone.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"No," he said flatly.
I glanced up at him instinctively.
There was something about his tone that made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Silence filled the room for a few seconds while he listened to whoever was on the other end.
Then he spoke again.
"If they refuse," he said quietly, "burn the warehouse."
My head snapped up.
Burn?
Warehouse?
For a moment I wondered if I had misheard him.
But Danny didn't look like someone joking.
He stood near the window, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his dark trousers while rain tapped softly against the glass behind him. His expression was calm—almost bored—as if he had just ordered dinner instead of… whatever that was.
I stared at him.
Danny noticed.
His gaze shifted slowly toward me.
For a moment our eyes locked.
Something dark flickered behind his gaze.
Not anger.
Not embarrassment.
Something colder.
Then he turned away and continued the call like nothing had happened.
"Yes," he said. Then paused.
"Tonight."
The call ended with a quiet click and the room suddenly felt too quiet.
I swallowed.
"Danny…?"
He turned slightly toward me. "Yes?"
My fingers twisted nervously together. I didn't know if asking this was appropriate but I was dying of curiosity so I left it out. "What kind of business do you do?"
For a second he just looked at me. At first I thought I had crossed the line and I was about to quickly apologize for asking but then he smiled.
But I noticed that the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"The complicated kind." he replied without further explanations.
That night I learned the truth.
It happened around midnight.
I woke up suddenly, my throat dry and scratchy. For a moment I lay there staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above my bed, trying to remember where I was.
Then it came back to me.
The mansion.
Danny.
The life that still felt like a dream I might wake up from any moment.
I pushed the blankets aside and slipped out of bed.
The tiled floors felt cool under my feet as I quietly made my way downstairs toward the kitchen. The mansion was mostly silent at night, the long hallways dimly lit by soft golden lamps along the walls.
I was halfway down the staircase when I heard voices.
They were coming from Danny's office.
Low.
Serious.
The office door was slightly open, a thin strip of light spilling into the dark hallway.
I hesitated.
Curiosity tugged at me. Slowly, I stepped closer, then I peeked inside.
Five men stood inside the office.
Four of them were Danny's guards.
The fifth man looked like he might collapse at any moment.
He was sweating, his face pale and desperate as he stood in the middle of the room.
Danny sat behind his large wooden desk, leaning back comfortably in his chair like he had all the time in the world.
"Please, Mr. Morgan," the man begged. His voice shook with desperation.
Danny's expression didn't change. "You stole from me," he said quietly.
"I'll return it!" the man cried. "I swear I will!"
Danny folded his hands calmly on the desk.
"You already should have."
The man suddenly dropped to his knees.
The sound echoed loudly against the polished floor.
"I have a family!" he pleaded. "Please—please—"
Danny sighed.
It wasn't an angry sound. It sounded… tired. Like someone dealing with an annoying problem.
Then he turned his head slightly toward one of the guards. "Take him away."
The room exploded with panic.
"No—! Please! I'll fix it! I'll fix everything!"
The guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him toward the door.
His screams echoed through the hallway as they pulled him away.
I stumbled backward in shock, my heart racing wildly in my chest.
What was happening?
What kind of place was this?
The office door opened a few seconds later.
Danny stepped into the hallway.
And saw me.
Our eyes met.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
The silence between us felt heavy and strange. "You weren't supposed to see that," he said calmly.
My voice trembled when I answered.
"You're… not a businessman."
Danny studied my face carefully. Like he was measuring something. Then he spoke. "I'm mafia," he said simply. "A boss, if that sounds appropriate."
My breath caught.
The word felt heavy in the air between us.
"I control most of the city's underground operations."
He didn't explain further.
He didn't need to.
Drugs.
Weapons.
Gambling.
Protection.
The words filled my mind even though he never said them out loud.
My hands began to tremble. Danny noticed. For a moment he watched me silently. Then he asked quietly,
"Are you scared?"
My mind flashed back to the night in the alley. The rain pouring down. The blood soaking through his shirt. The way he had looked at me like I was the only lifeline he had left.
I slowly shook my head. "You never hurt me."
Danny didn't respond right away.
He just watched me.
And back then… I believed what I had just said.
I shouldn't have been so sure.