รักอันตรายของเจ้าชายมาเฟีย

"I'm getting married again," Daven said. "And I won’t repeat myself, nor will I be asking for your permission."

He set his coffee cup down abruptly, ending breakfast, he hadn't even touched.

Althea stood frozen near the long dining table topped with white marble. Her fingers, still holding the spatula, began to tremble. But she kept her expression composed. She bowed her head slightly, letting Daven’s words sink in—though they felt like a slow-acting poison, quietly destroying her from the inside out.

"With Vanessa?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Daven didn’t look at her. He simply took a shallow breath before replying coldly, “Yes. Who else?”

Her husband, Daven Callister, had never loved her. His heart belonged entirely to Vanessa Blake. In truth, their marriage had always been nothing more than an obstacle to his love story. But what could Althea do when the woman who arranged the marriage had been so kind to her?

Evelyn Callister—Daven’s grandmother.

Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. She had surrendered, despite the grief that still haunted her from losing her mother. But Evelyn had refused to let it end there. She demanded that her beloved grandson, Daven—the man responsible for Althea’s mother’s death—marry her as a form of atonement. Eve saw Althea as a lonely girl with no one else in the world.

Daven had only agreed because he was cornered by his grandmother’s wishes. He had no choice but to comply. But now, with Evelyn Callister gone—taken by illness two weeks ago—Daven finally saw a chance to escape a marriage he’d never wanted.

There was no reason to stay. Not anymore.

A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on Althea’s lips—not from joy, but from bitter resignation. She turned off the stove and gently set the spatula down. Once again, she closed her eyes tightly, trying to contain the storm raging inside her chest.

“I won’t stand in your way,” she said at last. Her voice was soft—so soft it barely reached across the wide room. “We both know I never had a place in your heart.”

Daven remained silent. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t correct her either. But there was the slightest flicker of disturbance in his gaze as Althea walked slowly toward him. For a moment, he thought she might cry, beg, or show just enough sorrow to make him feel guilty.

But she didn’t.

Althea stood tall. Her hands clenched lightly at the sides of her simple dress. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, a quiet contrast to the calm strength in her posture. Her warm, light brown eyes now stared at him—blank, unreadable. At the man who had always been a stranger beneath the same roof.

Althea was beautiful, in her quiet way. But that beauty had never stirred anything in Daven. To him, Althea was nothing more than a disruption—an outsider forced into his life. And now that he had the chance to remove her, Daven intended to do exactly that.

“Give me one month of your time,” Althea said calmly. “Just one month ... Let me be your wife for real.”

Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife. Not just some stranger living under your roof.”

Silence fell.

Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. He even wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking?

One month? The idea was laughable.

Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name.

Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Mighatan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife.

It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. “This isn’t some cheap soap opera, Althea.”

She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love. Who am I to ask for something like that?” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.”

She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll Walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.”

Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity.

What is Althea's real purpose?

“Why not ask for something more reasonable?”

Althea fell silent. Looking away from Daven was difficult when those midnight-dark eyes were fixed on hers, commanding her not to break eye contact—not until he’d heard everything she had to say.

“If it’s money you want, just say it. I’ll give it to you.”

“No,” she said firmly, without hesitation. Her resolve had already been sealed. There was no turning back now.

“You really don’t know how to give up, do you?” Daven sneered.

“I already have, Daven,” Althea replied softly. “But I just want one memory to keep for the rest of my life. Before I walk away from you for good.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity?

“I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said.

“I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be.

And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed.

One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. But to Daven, she’d always been nothing more than an intruder.

Now, before everything ended, Althea could at least be grateful—Daven hadn’t rejected her request.

“Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.”

“I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.”

He scoffed, the corner of his lips curling with disdain. “And if you expect more than what I’m willing to give, I won’t hesitate to throw you out.”

Althea nodded obediently.

“Don’t you dare break your promise, Althea.” His gaze turned sharp again, piercing. “If you do, don’t blame me for destroying your life.”