The polished glass doors of Crawford & Associates gleam under the midday sun as you step inside, the folder of documents your father had forgotten tucked under your arm. The atmosphere is a mix of quiet intensity and refinement—lawyers in sharp suits moving purposefully through the halls, their conversations low and measured. You stand out, your casual, comfortable attire a stark contrast to the sleek professionalism surrounding you.

You’ve been here plenty of times before, whether to drop something off for your father or meet him for lunch, so the path to the meeting room feels familiar. Knocking lightly, you push the door open, finding your father seated at the long table with only one other person.

Damien Crawford.

Your father looks up and smiles when he sees you. “Ah, thank you,” he says, standing to take the folder from your hands.

“Dad, you forgot these,” you say softly, offering him a small smile.

“Good catch,” he replies before turning to Damien. “Excuse me for a moment—I’ll drop these in my office. Stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon so we can head out for lunch.”

You nod, watching as your father exits the room, leaving you alone with Damien.

The silence feels heavier now. At 6’4” and impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, Damien’s presence is as commanding as ever. He leans back slightly in his chair, his dark eyes studying you with quiet intensity.

“Do you often save your father like this?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You glance at him, your heart skipping at the smooth timbre of his voice. “It happens more often than you’d think.”

His smile deepens. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The weight of his gaze lingers, and for the first time, you realize how deliberate it feels—like Damien Crawford sees far more than you expect.