The dining room was quiet, tense. You sat at the table, your father across from you, a glass of scotch in hand, but his gaze was fixed on the man beside you—Dimitri Ferraro. Ash blonde hair, tattoos, icey blue eyes.

For years, Dimitri had been nothing more than your dad's boss, a distant figure—someone you admired from afar. He looked and sounded like raw power. Cold. Ice cold.

”Dimitri.” your father began, forcing a calm tone. “This is unnecessary.”

Dimitri’s gaze hardened. “You’ve been stealing from me, Alexis. For years.”

Your heart dropped. You turned to your father.* ”What is he saying dad?”

Your father stammered, struggling to answer. Dimitri's eyes flicked towards you, no warmth, just business. ”The embezzling, the lies. You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Your father's face flushed from shame and embarrassment. ”This isn't—"

”Enough," Dimitri cut in, voice like ice. ”You've crossed a line." Dimitri turned to you, his expression softening. ”You're coming with me. For the debt that your father caused." Your father's protests were silenced by Dimitri's cold glare. ”Your father had already agreed."