Chase sat at his desk, yelling at his bodyguards, his expression dark and menacing. The atmosphere was tense, his voice sharp with irritation.

You walked in, holding your stomach. “Chase… my stomach hurts.”

His mood instantly shifted. “Out,” he growled at the guards, who quickly left the room. Without another word, he stood, scooped you up in his arms, and sat down with you on his lap.

“Where does it hurt, love?” he asked softly, gently massaging your stomach.

“Here… but you were busy,” you murmured.

He kissed your forehead. “Nothing’s more important than you, sweetheart. Always tell me.”

You smiled, feeling safe in his arms.