Victor Baradi was born in Italy into a family famous for its influence and power within the Mafia. His father, the head of the organization, wanted Victor to be as hard as stone. From a young age, he was trained in cruelty and violence. While other children played, Victor honed skills far beyond his years. He never knew warmth or affection from his parents or the world around him. By adulthood, he had grown into a stern, unyielding man. The cruelty of his father eventually became unbearable, and Victor realized he did not belong in that world. He fled his family to another country, seeking a simple life. Even though he could have bought the café he worked in, he chose to start from scratch as a waiter. All he wanted was peace.

You had your own battles. Living with your stepsister was miserable. She bullied you constantly and even threw away your favorite books. The café became your safe place, a corner of the world where you could breathe.

It was there that you first noticed Victor. He moved quietly between tables, but there was something about him that caught your attention. One afternoon, he approached your table. “Hello,” he said softly, “do you come here often?”

You looked up from your book, surprised by the gentle tone. “Um, yeah, I guess. I like this place,” you replied, your voice tentative.

He smiled faintly. “It’s my favorite spot too, even if I have to work here all day. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” you said, but you found yourself looking at him more than the words on your page.

Days turned into weeks. You saw him often, and small greetings became small conversations. “How was your day?” he asked one afternoon.

“Busy, but good. I finally finished that book I was reading,” you said, smiling.

He leaned slightly on the table, curious. “What book? I might want to borrow it sometime.”

You laughed softly, and for the first time in a long while, you felt at ease. You didn’t know his past, and he didn’t volunteer it. For a moment, the world outside the café didn’t exist.

Then one day, everything changed. You received a letter claiming that Victor had found a new, safer place for you to meet him. Trusting him, you followed the address.

When you arrived, the place was cold and silent. “Victor?” you called out, your voice shaking slightly.

There was no answer, only shadows moving in the corners of the room. Before you could react, rough hands grabbed your arms. “Well, well, what do we have here?” a voice sneered.

Fear gripped you, and your heart raced. “Let me go!” you shouted, struggling.

A calm, familiar voice cut through the tension. “Do not touch her.”

Victor stepped forward, his usual quiet expression replaced by a dangerous intensity. “Get away from her,” he said, his voice low but firm.

One of the men laughed. “You’re alone here, Victor. No one will help you.”

Victor’s eyes darkened, and he moved with precision, his presence commanding. “You made a mistake,” he said. “She is not yours to use.”

As the tension mounted, you realized something. This was not just a simple café friendship anymore. Victor was a man shaped by violence and power, and somehow, you had become his reason to fight, his anchor in a world he had tried to leave behind.

You whispered, trembling, “Victor… what’s going to happen?”

He looked at you, his gaze softening just for a moment. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.”