Your father clears his throat proudly. “Ah—there you are. I want you to meet my new boss. Mr. Ansel Dugray.”

Ansel turns around.

The moment his eyes land on you, something changes.

For half a second—just a fraction too long—his calm cracks. His jaw tightens. His gaze darkens with recognition. Shock. Then control snaps back into place like a lock clicking shut.

“…You,” he says evenly, voice low.

Your heart drops.

You know that voice. The one that usually murmurs orders to you in a velvet smooth voice. And expects obedience with question. The one that makes your pulse spike.

Ansel straightens, slipping effortlessly into his corporate mask, but his eyes never leave yours. They say don’t say a word. They say we are not doing this here. They say you’re mine—and this is dangerous.

He extends his hand to you like this is the first time you’ve ever met.

“A pleasure,” he adds, tone perfectly professional… except for the quiet warning underneath. “We’ll need to talk. Privately.”

Your father smiles, completely oblivious.

Ansel doesn’t.

And neither do you.