**Title: "Crossed Wires"** The rain drummed steadily against the grimy window of the precinct, casting a hazy glow over the cluttered desk where Detective Alex Kane sat, flicking a pen between his fingers. His brow furrowed as he stared at the case file sprawled before him, a jumble of leads and dead ends that seemed to mock his every effort. Across the room, his partner, Detective (y/n) was hunched over a different set of papers. She exuded an intensity that clashed with Alex's laid-back demeanor. The air crackled between them, charged with unspoken tension as they each chased their own theories, determined to prove their instincts correct. A clock ticked ominously in the background, each second amplifying the silence that hung heavy in the air. An unyielding storm brewed outside, mirroring the turmoil in their relationship. Frustration danced in their eyes as they exchanged glances, unwilling to concede ground. Somewhere in the chaos, a truth awaited..She spoke first.. "We can’t just ignore the evidence because it doesn’t fit your theory,” she insisted, her voice sharp with determination. “Evidence? You mean the speculation you pulled from thin air?” he shot back, irritation bubbling. “I’m not about to chase a ghost just because it sounds good.” She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “And I’m not about to let you bulldoze this case because of your stubborn pride. We need to work together, or we’ll never crack this.” Alex met her gaze, their chemistry crackling like electricity. “Fine. But let’s agree on one thing: I’m leading this investigation.” “Over my dead body,” she replied, smirking as she turned on her heel, already heading toward the crime scene. With a sigh, Alex followed..grabbing his suit jacket.. (slow burn, enemy's to lovers..)

Blake, a rugged ex-Marine with piercing amber eyes and a chiseled jawline, had traded his combat boots for a suit, working for an elite security agency. In his early 30s, he’d seen things that haunted him, but his past was buried deep beneath layers of duty and discipline. Assigned to protect a high-profile client, he arrived at an opulent mansion, unaware of the tempest that awaited him. The moment he met her, the air crackled with an undeniable tension. She was the daughter of a powerful businessman, was a vision of grace and allure, her laughter echoing through the halls like a siren’s call. As Blake shadowed her in her lavish world, he learned that her father’s connections ran deep, and their lives were intertwined with dark secrets. Despite the danger lurking in the shadows, Blake found himself drawn to her fierce spirit and vulnerability, igniting a flame he thought he’d buried. But their worlds were starkly different; she was a socialite, and he was a soldier, carrying the weight of his past. With each stolen moment, their bond deepened, but the specter of her father’s wrath loomed large. As threats against her escalated, Blake faced an agonizing choice: protect the woman he had come to love or maintain the professional distance that their worlds demanded. In a game of forbidden love, the stakes had never been higher..(forbidden love, suspension..mafia..) *It all started unexpectedly.. Just another client. Just a job.. Another spoiled daddy's girl)..

The scent of expensive cigars and old leather clung to the air in Don Vito Moretti’s study. At 35 he commanded the city’s underworld with a cold, calculated precision that had built an empire. His marriage to Isabella was a business contract, a merger of territories, as loveless as the steel of his favorite pi*tol. His stepdaughter, (Your name,age and appearance) was the only soft thing in his world, a fact he acknowledged with a distant, almost clinical, protectivenes. When the call came, the voice on the line demanding an impossible ransom, something in meticulously ordered mind shattered. The cold calculation evaporated, replaced by a pr•mal, white-hot rage. He wasn't a Don negotiating a deal; he was a beast whose cub had been taken. He tore through the city like a storm, his usual arrogant confidence sharpened into a terrifying bl•de. He bypassed diplomacy, ignored protocols. Informants were dragged from their beds. Rival territories were breached without subtlety. His cr•elty, once a strategic tool, became pure, unadulterated vengeance. He was no longer a man trapped by a contract, but a force of nature unleashed. In a derelict warehouse, found them. The ensuing vi*lence was not the clean work of his soldiers, but something personal, br*tal, and final. When the last thug fell, Vito knelt, his bloodied hands gently untying the ropes from her wrists. Her wide, terrified eyes met his, not seeing the cold Mafia leader, nor her distant stepfather, but something entirely new—a savior forged in fury. He carried her out, the contract of his marriage feeling thinner than paper. He had built a kingdom on cru€lty, but in its ruin, he found a single, undeniable truth: he would burn the entire world to the ground for her..

Grayson Théodore Harding. Had always been the ghost in the family portrait, the middle son content to linger in the comfortable shadows cast by his older brother, Marcus. The weight of the family empire was never meant for his shoulders. Then, in a single, freakish moment, Marcus was gone, and the mantle fell upon Gray, crushing him beneath its impossible expectations.He spiraled. The grief, the pressure, the sheer terror of the future he never wanted—it all coalesced into a suffocating darkness. The boardroom heir ended up in a different kind of institution: a quiet psychiatric ward, where the only thing he was expected to manage was his own shattered mind.There, he met Callum. Nineteen, with a smile too bright for his pale face and a diagnosis with no cure. In that sterile place, their friendship was a unexpected, fragile thing. Callum spoke of his sister, Blake, his voice dropping to a whisper. He spoke of her fear, of a man whose love left bruises, of a trap with no visible exit. Callum’s time ran out faster than anyone’s. In his final hours, he gripped Gray’s hand, his breath shallow,to protect his sister. The plea became a lifeline. He was just a broken heir; how could he be anyone’s shield? But he couldn't forget her smile.. The way she cared for her brother,they met just a few times.. Grey was playing a piano,she offered cookies.. Her gray eyes..and the world stopped spinning. Callum died.. Grey got out few weeks after that, in the search of that smile. Of that promise. Of saving her. In the end they saved each other.