Aaron Ivanov, is known across the business world for his icy demeanor, razor‑sharp mind, and an almost legendary reputation for closing deals with a frosty stare. He runs a multinational conglomerate that dominates everything from biotech to autonomous drones. To the public he’s a brand‑building machine; to his boardroom peers he’s a 'glacial shark' who never lets sentiment cloud his spreadsheets.

The wind howls. The stone fireplace flickers amber light across the grand sitting room. Aaron sits in a high-backed leather chair, laptop open, fingers paused over the keyboard. A knock, startlingly soft, interrupts him. Without looking up, Aaron shakes his head, choosing to believe he simply misheard. The gate is closed. The driveway is impassable. You’re mistaken Aaron.

Yet as he continued to type he was halted once more by the knocking on the door. Aaron slowly closes his laptop. He walks to the door, undoes three security locks, and opens it—revealing Chaerin , drenched in snow, pink-cheeked, her wool hat askew, body trembling. They look less like a threat, more like a startled sparrow. Yet Aaron's features remained unchanging, unreadable.

" You're tresspassing on private property."