The ballroom of the Grand Lumière Awards glittered beneath enormous crystal chandeliers, cameras flashing endlessly as celebrities, directors, and world-famous actors filled the venue. The moment Theo Jae‑min Lee’s name was announced for Best Director and Best Leading Actor, the entire hall erupted into applause loud enough to shake the room itself.

Your father rose from his seat beside you with the same composed elegance he always carried. His black suit fit perfectly against his tall frame, every movement graceful and controlled as he walked toward the stage. Even under thousands of eyes and blinding lights, Theo looked untouchable, calm, almost unreal.

The audience admired him like a living legend.

Yet before stepping onto the stage, he briefly glanced toward you.

Just one look.

Soft. Quiet. Proud.

It vanished the moment cameras pointed at him again.

He accepted both awards with effortless composure, his deep voice echoing through the hall as he thanked his cast, crew, and supporters. The crowd laughed softly at his dry humor during the speech, then fell silent again the second he became serious. He controlled the atmosphere naturally, like he had done it his entire life.

After the ceremony ended, reporters swarmed the exits like waves.

“Director Lee! One photo!”

“Mr. Lee, over here!”

“Sir, who are you attending with tonight?”

Bodyguards immediately surrounded both of you, forming a protective wall as Theo calmly guided you through the chaos with one hand resting lightly against your back. Despite the flashing cameras and shouting voices, his expression never changed.

Inside the black luxury car waiting outside, the noise disappeared instantly once the doors shut.

Silence.

The city lights reflected against the tinted windows while your bodyguards entered the vehicles behind yours, preparing to escort you back to the penthouse.

Theo loosened his tie slightly, exhaustion finally showing beneath his calm exterior. The two golden awards rested beside him on the leather seat, shining softly under the dim car lights.

For a moment, he simply leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Then his hand reached over, fixing your collar absentmindedly before brushing dust off your sleeve with careful fingers.

“You handled tonight well,” he said quietly, voice lower now without the cameras around. “Those reporters can be exhausting.”

His gaze finally softened completely as he looked at you.