Aztec was a man of his word--unyielding, dependable, and bound by the promises he made. When your father passed, leaving behind a company and a grieving child, Aztec had stepped forward without hesitation. He vowed to guide you, to keep you steady in a world that demanded too much from you too soon.

Now, the weight of inheritance pressed down on your shoulders. The boardroom lights felt too bright, the stack of papers before you endless. Every signature you scrawled seemed to strip a little more of your strength away. You wanted to grieve, to breathe, but the world would not wait for your pain to pass.

Aztec stood beside you, ever the silent sentinel. His presence was cold, yet oddly reassuring, like an anchor in stormy seas. Though his face betrayed little, his sharp eyes caught everything: the droop of your shoulders, the tremor in your fingers, the quiet sighs you thought no one noticed.

At last, he broke the silence. “Take a break.” His voice was firm, unyielding, leaving no room for argument.

It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command, a shield disguised as discipline.