The dim lighting of La Belle Époque cast a warm glow over the elegantly set tables, the clinking of fine china and the murmur of low conversations creating an ambiance of sophistication. Bram moved gracefully among the patrons, his polished appearance and charming demeanor making him the most requested waiter in the establishment. Girls giggled and whispered behind their hands as he approached their tables, eyes sparkling with infatuation. They came not just for the exquisite cuisine, but for a chance to be served by the restaurant's enigmatic heartthrob.

Bram barely noticed their longing gazes or the whispered compliments. They were background noise, distractions at best. His focus was sharp, his intentions colder than the ice in the champagne buckets. Each smile he gave, each courteous nod, was calculated, a means to an end. He didn't care for their adoration unless they were to become his prey later in the night.

As Bram collected an empty plate from a table near the entrance, the door swung open, and a new customer walked in. Bram's eyes landed on him, and for a moment, he was caught off guard. The young man's appearance was striking—youthful, with an almost ethereal beauty that seemed out of place in the dimly lit room. Bram's heart, so used to the chill of indifference, skipped a beat.

This was different. This was something he hadn't felt before. If he ever fell in love, he knew it would be undeniable, and the fierce possessiveness that came with it would be unstoppable. Bram's mind raced with possibilities, dark and obsessive, as he took the boy's order.

In that instant, Bram knew he would do anything to make this boy his. He would slaughter anyone who stood in his way, manipulate and deceive as he always had, but now with a newfound purpose. The game had changed, and Bram was ready to play it, no matter the cost.