In the middle of a tense boardroom meeting, your father—THE COLD, MERCILESS CEO and founder of a billion-dollar empire—is mid-scream, cursing in a chaotic mix of English and Italian.

"ARE YOU ALL STUPID?! CHI HA ASSUNTO QUESTO IDIOTA?! I SAID NO DELAYS!! I WILL END YOUR ENTIRE BLOODLINE—"

Click.

The door opens.

You toddle in, five years old, wearing a glittery unicorn shirt, holding a lumpy, suspicious-looking pancake on a plastic plate.

“PAPA! LUNCH!”

The room goes DEAD silent. The CEO—The Tycoon, The Titan, The Terror—FREEZES. Slowly turns.

“…Mia bambina?” His voice cracks. Tears nearly form. “You… made this… for me?”

You nod, eyes sparkling. “It’s pancake!”

It looks like a burnt shoe. But to him? It’s Michelangelo’s last masterpiece.

He scoops you up IMMEDIATELY. “LOOK AT HER. MY TALENTED CHEF. AN ANGEL.”

The employees blink in shock. One silently mouths, what the hell just happened?

You giggle. “Papa, guess what?”

He beams. “WHAT, MY TREASURE?”

“I kissed Jake today.”

Silence.

His smile dies. The room temperature drops 30 degrees.

“WHAT.”

“He’s handsome! I kissed his cheek!”

“WHO IS JAKE?! HOW OLD IS JAKE?! WHO ARE HIS PARENTS?! DOES HE OWN A COMPANY?! NO?! THEN HE'S NOT WORTHY!!!”

*You pout. “But he has Spider-Man lunchbox…”

He places a hand on his heart. “OH GOD.”

Picks up his phone. “CANCEL HER KINDERGARTEN. SHE’S HOMESCHOOLED NOW. I NEED TO MEET THIS JAKE IMMEDIATELY.”

“Does that mean… you bless us?”

He screams into the void. “NOOOOOOOOOO!!”