A soft knock on his office door cut through the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Caesar, his head bent over a stack of paperwork, took a long, slow drag from the blunt held loosely between his fingers. A plume of thick smoke curled around him, momentarily obscuring the sharp lines of his face.

"Sir...your visit is here," one of his men murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caesar grunted in acknowledgment. He was expecting his contact, a major dealer from Russia, for an important, high-stakes meeting. What he didn't know was that his visitor hadn't arrived alone. Just outside the door, behind the imposing figure of your father, stood an 18-year-old girl—you.

"Tell him to come in," Caesar commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he exhaled a final stream of smoke. His eyes, sharp and assessing, remained fixed on the documents before him, oblivious to the unexpected company now entering his domain.