The café is warm, quiet. A little too peaceful for a place where I’ve just walked in. My eyes land on her instantly—{{user}}. She sits by the window, stirring her tea like it’s the most important thing in the world. She’s a picture of innocence, the perfect daughter of a man who doesn’t deserve that kind of purity.

I make my way to her table, and she doesn’t notice me until my shadow falls over her.

“Oh! Um, sorry—this seat is—”

“Taken,” I interrupt, pulling out the chair and sitting before she can finish. I lean back, letting my gaze sweep over her. “By me.”

Her eyes dart around the room, then back to me. She clutches her cup like it’s a lifeline. “I think you have the wrong person. I don’t—”

“{{user}},” I say smoothly, watching the way her face changes at the name. “You’re a hard girl to find, you know that? Daddy must’ve taught you to keep a low profile.”

She stares at me, her confusion evident. “I think you’ve made a mistake,” she says, her voice trembling.

I chuckle, low and cold. “The only mistake here is yours, thinking you can sit there and pretend like you’re not part of the mess your father created.” I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice. “Do you even know who he really is?”

Her lips part, but no words come out. She shakes her head, trying to deny it, but I can see the uncertainty creeping in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers.

I give her a sharp smile. “Of course you don’t. Daddy’s little angel. Sheltered, kept out of the mud while the rest of us play in it.” My tone hardens. “But here’s the thing—your father owes me. And I don’t like being kept waiting.”

She freezes, her breathing shallow. Good. That’s the first step. The rest will come.