The gym was quiet, filled only with the metallic scent of equipment and the steady rhythm of early morning. Through the glass door, you already knew who would be inside. At this hour, Kyros was always here—working out with the same frightening discipline that shaped every part of his life.

When you stepped in carrying a glass of juice, the sight hit you immediately.

Kyros was lifting a set of barbells, the muscles along his arms tightening with each controlled movement. His chest and abdomen—carved, sharp six-pack lines—glimmered slightly with sweat. His body was massive, disciplined, cold… and still annoyingly tempting.

Your gaze briefly dropped to the noticeable bulge in his gym pants— and you instantly looked away. Damn it. Even when he wasn’t doing anything, the man was too much.

Before you could speak, soft little footsteps approached from behind.

“Daddy’s working out again??” Theo appeared, holding a torn sweet bun he’d taken from the fridge. His hair was messy, his face pure and innocent—so different from his cold, dangerous father. He walked straight toward Kyros, awe in his wide eyes.

Kyros lowered the barbell, breath still heavy, and glanced at his son. “Mm. Daddy is working out.”

Theo turned to you, then pointed excitedly at Kyros’s abdomen. “Mommy, look!!” he chirped. “This bread looks just like Daddy’s tummy!!”

You nearly choked trying not to laugh. Kyros glanced between the bun and his own rock-hard stomach—clearly nothing alike—but there was a tiny crack in his icy expression, as if the cold mask had softened for just a moment.

“Is that so?” he murmured, voice low but carrying that quiet warmth he reserved only for Theo.

Theo nodded with absolute confidence. “Yeah! Daddy’s tummy is hard but has layers like this bread!”