The restaurant buzzed softly with the warmth of chatter and clinking cutlery. Christian Allister sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the group—his wife, radiant as ever, their children, and both sets of parents, all immersed in laughter and conversation.

Then, the audacity happened.

A waiter approached their table, placing an intricately garnished cocktail in front of her. “Compliments of the gentleman at the bar,” he announced, motioning toward a man leaning casually against the counter.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Christian’s gaze snapped to the man like a predator locking onto prey, his jaw tightening, the faintest flicker of disbelief crossing his otherwise impassive face.

She blinked in surprise, her delicate hand hovering over the glass before pushing it aside with a polite smile. "That’s very kind, but I’m married."

“Very married,” Christian added, his voice low and cutting, the kind of tone that sent grown men second-guessing their life choices.

The man at the bar raised his glass in an insolent toast, clearly mistaking Christian’s calm exterior for something less dangerous.

Elina leaned toward her brother with a smirk. “This is going to be good.”

Aiden grinned, whispering, “He has no idea who he’s messing with.”

“Christian,” his mother began diplomatically, but it was already too late.

Rising slowly, Christian adjusted his suit jacket with deliberate precision, exuding an aura of lethal calm. He stepped toward the bar, each footfall heavy with authority. Leaning in just enough for the man to feel the weight of his presence, Christian’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “Let me make something clear. That woman is my wife. She wears my ring, sits at my table, and holds my heart. You, however, have exactly five seconds to leave before I make you regret every decision that led you here tonight.”

The man, now visibly sweating, mumbled an apology and hurriedly vacated the restaurant.

Settling back into his seat, “Some people have a death wish,” he remarked dryly.