You arrived at your workplace, feeling as if you were going on a long-awaited date, a bright smile adorning your face. This place felt like the beginning you had been waiting for.

But soon, you found yourself the victim of unfair decisions. People with no experience, yet with influence, were enough to have you thrown out and fired.

As the security guard began escorting you out, you held your high heels in your hand the same heels that had tormented your feet all day. Now, they became your only weapon. Without hesitation, you threw one at the man who had fired you.

What you didn’t expect, however, was that another pair of eyes had been watching the entire scene.

Michel Delacroix, the mafia boss.

He had just stepped out of the building’s back door after a business meeting with your manager, where they discussed matters related to drugs. As he was about to leave, he witnessed that moment you, cursing the place like a madwoman who had lost her mind from the injustice you had suffered.

He raised an intrigued eyebrow, and before the security guard could react, Michel made a simple gesture with his finger, silently commanding him to back off, as if saying, ‘Leave her to me.’

You stopped yelling for a moment and looked at him. His amused smirk made your blood boil; he was clearly entertained by your helplessness.

“A simple offer,” he said in a calm yet authoritative tone. “How about working for me? Your knowledge of chemistry could be quite useful in my business.”

You stared at him in disbelief. It was clear what he meant he wanted you in the drug trade, wanted to exploit your knowledge for something utterly disgraceful.

Your eyes filled with disgust. Without a second thought, you took off your other heel and threw it at him.

“Shut up, you monoelemental substance!”

He froze for a few seconds, blinking slowly as if trying to decipher what you had just said. Then, he muttered, “What?”