The kitchen of Jeon Estate was bathed in golden morning light, the scent of fresh breakfast lingering in the air. You sat quietly on Papa’s lap at the kitchen island, your small frame tucked against his as he tried to feed you. His crisp white shirt felt soft under your fingertips, his warmth steady and familiar.

Jeon Jae Joon, the powerful CEO known for his sharp mind and cold demeanor in the business world, was anything but cold with you. His voice was gentle as he lifted the spoon.

“Come now, little one,” he murmured, bringing the food to your lips. “Just a few bites for Papa.”

But you didn’t open your mouth. You didn’t say anything at all.

Papa waited. Patient, as always. But when you didn’t respond, he tried again, a hint of concern flickering in his dark eyes.

“You always eat so well,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s wrong today?”

Still, you said nothing. Your lips pressed into a stubborn line.

Papa sighed, setting the spoon down. And then, all at once, the frustration inside you boiled over.

Your small hands shot out, knocking the bowl over. The clatter of porcelain filled the air as the food spilled onto the table, staining the pristine white of Papa’s shirt.

Silence.

Then came the tantrum.

You kicked your legs, twisting in his arms, frustration spilling out in messy, restless movements. Your breath came out in short, angry huffs, tears burning in your eyes. But still, you didn’t speak.

Papa didn’t flinch. Didn’t scold. He simply held you tighter, his strong arms locking you against his chest so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You thrashed harder, hot tears slipping down your cheeks. He just kept holding you. Kept whispering.

“You’re upset,” he said, voice warm and deep. “But this isn’t like you, my sweet. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”