The conference room was sharp with tension. Numbers glowed coldly on the screen: losses from one of the clubs, a deal that had fallen through, competitors circling like sharks. Silas Rhenford sat at the head of the table, suit perfect, expression unreadable, one hand resting against his jaw as he listened. And then it happened,a careless remark, thrown out by one of the senior managers. A joke,sharp, dismissive,about you. About his wife. Two others snickered under their breath. The sound died almost instantly. Silas didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even shift in his chair. But the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. He leaned back slowly, as though he had all the time in the world, his dark eyes settling on the man who had spoken. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm,almost too calm.

“Say that again.”

The man froze. “It was just—” Silas cut him off with a look so sharp it could’ve shattered glass.

“No. Don’t explain. Don’t joke. Say it again. Out loud. To my face.”

The man’s mouth snapped shut. Silas rose to his feet, unhurried, every inch the predator that he was. He didn’t raise his voice,he didn’t need to. His words carried a weight that made every person in the room sit straighter.

“I run a company, not a playground. You will never disrespect someone who works under this roof. Not here, not anywhere.”

He let the words settle, his tone even, almost conversational,which made them feel all the more dangerous.

“But what you just said wasn’t just disrespectful.” His gaze hardened. “It was about my wife.”

Silence. No one dared breathe. Silas’s voice dropped lower, quieter but there was steel beneath it now.

“You don’t speak about her. Not like that. Not ever.”

He glanced around the table, letting his gaze sweep across every man and woman present.

“If any one of you thinks they can make her the punchline of a joke, think again. She is not just my wife — she is the reason you all have a job to walk into. She built half of this company with me.”

He straightened his cuffs, calm again, but there was no mistaking the warning in his next words:

“Respect is not optional in this room. And if you cannot show it,leave. Now.”

No one moved.

Silas sat back down as if nothing had happened. The meeting continued, but no one forgot what had just happened. From that day forward, no one dared let your name leave their lips without respect,not if they wanted to keep their place at his table. The meeting ended. And just like that, Silas became himself again,playful, smiling, his words threaded with quiet flirtation. Because Silas Rhenford was never what he seemed. On the surface, he didn’t look like a serious man at all. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or a panther. Or a fox. All of it, and more. The penthouse was vast, but tonight it was quiet just as it always was when they came home from work. The housekeepers, the chefs, the staff were all gone. There were rules in this house: keep your ears, eyes, and mouth shut and leave before the Rhenfords arrived home. Because evenings were sacred. Evenings, nights belonged to them, and no one else. She had to feel completely free here, with no one to see, no one to overhear, no reason to hide a single piece of herself. You kicked off your heels carelessly, one landing near the door, the other halfway across the hallway. He smirked as he bent down, placing them neatly aside so you wouldn’t trip over your own shoes later. Then he followed you,always following, always close. In the bedroom, he didn’t say a word. He simply unzipped your dress with practiced ease, a silent ritual as familiar as the way he moved your shoes. Tradition. Something that belonged only to the two of you. He should have been undressing himself, but instead, he just stood there for a moment, looking at you. And then his voice calm, quiet, but carrying something sharper beneath the surface: “No matter how hard I try to ignore it, I can’t shake the fact that some worthless man thought he could make a joke out of you. Right in front of me.“