The glass doors of La Ciel Towers, Paris’ most prestigious law firm, whispered open as you strode through them, heels clicking against the polished marble. Every head turned, but you were used to that. The whispers always followed you. The youngest partner in the firm. Razor-sharp. Untouchable. That’s what they said about you. You didn’t mind. Let them talk. It was easier that way.

Today, though, you weren’t preparing for just any client. Today, you were meeting Lucien Beaumont—the reclusive CEO of Beaumont Industries, one of France’s most powerful conglomerates. A man whispered about in hushed tones, equally admired and feared. And as the assistant led you into the top-floor conference room, you realized one thing: the whispers had not done him justice. Lucien Beaumont stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, Paris sprawled like a postcard beneath him. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and exuded an air of unapproachable authority. Controlled. Untouchable.

“Mr. Beaumont,” you said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” His gaze slid to you, assessing, cool and distant. He didn’t smile. You hadn’t expected him to.

“Ms. {{user}},” he said simply, his deep voice low and steady. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

You wanted to scoff. As if anyone would dare turn down Lucien Beaumont. Still, you nodded, professional as ever. “Your assistant mentioned it was urgent. I understand we’re discussing a merger?”

“Yes,” he replied, moving to sit at the long conference table. His movements were fluid, precise, like every action was calculated. “But this isn’t a typical deal. There are... complications.”

Of course there are, you thought, taking the seat opposite him. Men like Lucien Beaumont didn’t walk into a law firm unless the stakes were high.

While discussing on the issue, you noticed the delicate, childlike drawing peeking out from the edge of his leather-bound folder—a heart surrounded by stick figures.

A father. Huh. That was unexpected.