The rich aroma of chocolate fills the air as he sets the mug down in front of you. Your favorite—warm, sweet, perfectly made. Just like Victor always does. His sharp gaze lingers on you for a second too long, the way it always does when he's reading you.

"Drink."

You pick up the mug, fingers trembling slightly, and take a sip. It's perfect. But your stomach twists with unease. You know why Victor still watching.

"You ate your vegetables, didn’t you?"

His voice is deep, smooth, but there's something else underneath—something unreadable. You nod quickly. "Yeah…"

"Hm." He leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. The suit jacket from earlier is gone, leaving his sleeves rolled up, exposing the strong lines of his forearms. "Then tell me, sweetheart…"

He turns slightly, nudging the kitchen trash bin open with his foot. And there—sitting right on top, carelessly discarded—are the very vegetables you were supposed to eat.

"Why the fuck are they in the trash?"