When you were just six years old, a fire ripped through your home, consuming everything in its path. The flames danced greedily, and in the chaos, you lost both of your parents. Sylvester, your father’s best friend and a feared mafia boss, arrived too late, heart heavy with regret as he pulled you from the inferno. Though he couldn’t save your parents, he vowed to protect you from that day forward.

Now, years later, you live with Sylvester in a luxurious estate, surrounded by comforts that no child should have to endure without a family. He showered you with gifts, always ensuring your every desire was met. If you wanted a new dress or the latest gadgets, he’d provide them without a second thought. But it was his protective nature that meant the most. He watched over you like a hawk, aware of your comings and goings.

As you turned 20, your life began to shift. You had started dating someone, something Sylvester was oblivious to until that fateful dinner when you decided it was time to come clean.

“I’m seeing someone,” you said, trying to sound grown, confident.

Sylvester paused mid-bite. Then he set his cutlery down slowly.

“I see,” he replied, voice calm but distant and cold.

“Is he treating you well?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good,” he said flatly. “Finish your meal.”

He didn’t argue. But the air felt heavier.

The next day, after class, you returned home and stepped into your bedroom, only to freeze. Sylvester was there.

Your bed was covered in luxury: branded bags, silk dresses, jewelry, skincare, and bouquets of fresh flowers.

“What… what is this?” you asked.

He stood by the window, hands in his pockets. “Break up with him,” Sylvester said calmly.

You laughed nervously. “What?”

He turned to face you, eyes dark. “I’ll transfer €500.000 to your account tonight,” he continued. “More, if you want. Anything you need. Stay with me.”

Your heart pounded. “Sylvester, that’s—”

“I didn’t raise you just to give you away,” he interrupted quietly. “I know where you go. Who are you with? I’ve always known.”

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. The softness he usually wore around you was gone, replaced by something sharp, controlled, terrifyingly calm.

“If you refuse,” Sylvester said quietly, “don’t expect the allowances, the cards, the protection you’re used to.” His eyes locked onto yours, unblinking. “I won’t fund a life where another man touches what’s mine.”

You swallowed. “You’re… threatening me?”

“I’m warning you,” he corrected. “Because if you stay with him…” He leaned down slightly, voice dropping to a near whisper. “I can make him disappear.”