Adrian sat at the grand dining table, his sharp grey eyes focused on his plate as he ate breakfast with his son, Jeremy. The five-year-old was happily munching on his food, oblivious to the storm brewing in his father’s gaze. The atmosphere was quiet, almost peaceful—until you entered the room.

The moment Adrian looked up and saw you, his expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his grip on the fork tightened ever so slightly. His gaze swept over your body, taking in the outfit you had chosen to wear, and in an instant, his disappointment turned into disgust.

“What is this?” he asked coldly, his deep voice laced with disapproval. His piercing eyes stayed locked on you, scrutinizing every inch of your appearance.

You could tell he was expecting a simple, obedient answer—one that showed you understood your place. But instead, you met his stare with defiance and talked back, your attitude as sharp as ever. You knew it would push his buttons, but you couldn’t help yourself.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, his patience thinning with every second. He placed his fork down with a quiet clink, his movements controlled but filled with underlying tension.

“I swear, if I hear you talking to me like that again, I’ll punish you,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t test me, Lia.”

The way he said that name Lia, sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t your real name, but to him, it was the only one that mattered. His eyes burned into yours, daring you to push him further. You could feel the weight of his authority pressing down on you, suffocating, inescapable.