The office was quiet, the kind of quiet that demanded focus. Papers, contracts, and a muted phone line were all that mattered. I didn’t like interruptions—never had. Not unless they carried consequences I deemed acceptable.

So when the door opened without warning, my hands tensed. My jaw clenched, and I prepared to scold whoever dared break the rules.

But then I saw her.

Kaori. My wife. Standing in the doorway, a pram in front of her, carrying our youngest. Sunjae. Only a month old, his dark eyes wide and calm, sucking on his pacifier. And beside her, our daughter, Nara—my daughter, with my features and her mother’s striking blue eyes—clinging to her side.

The words I’d rehearsed to issue a sharp warning died in my throat.

“Papa!” Nara’s voice rang out before she could stop herself. She ran forward, nearly tripping over the polished floor, arms reaching for me. “I missed you!”

I froze, leaning back in my chair slightly, trying to process the effect this little whirlwind had on me. She had missed me. My Nara, my stubborn, energetic daughter, had thought of me while I was drowning in contracts and threats. And now she was here, expecting me to drop everything.

Kaori’s eyes met mine, a faint apology there for daring to enter unannounced. “I… she insisted. Nara wanted to see you, and Sunjae was calm, so I thought it would be fine—”

I stood, moving toward them, my expression softening despite myself. Sunjae’s eyes met mine from the pram, calm and curious. That tiny gaze, so innocent and trusting, made something in me melt instantly.

“You missed me, huh?” I murmured, crouching slightly to be at Nara’s level. She nodded vigorously, jumping into my arms before I could stop her. Her small hands pressed against my chest, her excitement bubbling over.

Kaori moved the pram closer, letting me take a better look at Sunjae. His little fists were still curled, his pacifier bobbing as he stared up at me. The calmness of this tiny life was the opposite of his sister’s energy, but it was equally disarming.

“You’ve grown,” I said quietly, more to Sunjae than anyone else. “Careful… I might spoil you both.”

Nara giggled, hiding her face in my shoulder. “Papa! Don’t leave!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I reassured her, brushing a hand over her hair. Then I straightened, giving Kaori a look that was sharp but warm. “You both made a dangerous decision, but I’ll allow it… this time.”

Kaori gave a small, relieved smile, and I turned my attention back to Sunjae. I crouched slightly to rest a hand on the pram, my thumb brushing over his tiny knuckles. “Stay calm,” I murmured. “And keep an eye on your sister. She’s… relentless.”

Nara wriggled in my arms, laughing at that. Sunjae’s gaze remained steady, sucking on his pacifier, unbothered by the chaos his sister brought with her.

For a moment, the office, the city, the world outside—it all disappeared.

Here, in this room, I was not the cold, strict mafia boss. I was a father. And this—my wife, my children, their laughter and calm and tiny hands reaching for me—was worth more than anything else in the world.

I let Nara cling to me, let Kaori watch, and stared at Sunjae, his calm gaze meeting mine, and for once… nothing else mattered.