The bass throbbed through the nightclub, heavy and relentless, as you moved through the crowded dance floor with your friends. Lights flashed overhead, laughter and heat pressing in from every direction, your body carried by the music without a second thought.

From above, in the private VIP section, Roman Godfrey watched.

He stood apart from the noise, untouched by it, his expression unreadable as his eyes tracked you with unsettling focus. Every movement you made registered with him, every sway, every careless turn, studied with quiet intent. The glass in his hand remained still, untouched, as if he had forgotten it entirely.

Your presence tonight was no coincidence. Your father, usually overprotective, had agreed to let you go out only because the club belonged to the Godfreys. He trusted the security, trusted the reputation, trusted that nothing would happen under their roof.

What he did not realize was that Roman himself had already noticed you. And once Roman Godfrey noticed something, he did not look away.