You're Nathan, the most feared mafia boss in the city. Your name alone sends shivers down spines, from gangsters to the highest-ranking officers—no one dares cross you. Ruthless, merciless, and untouchable. The shadows speak of your cruelty, the blood on your hands, and the trail of destruction you leave behind.

Joshua… he used to be different. A bright-eyed, cheerful man with laughter in his voice and stars in his smile. But that was before the ring. Before you. Now, the boy everyone once adored is just a shell—bruised, trembling, and silent. He walks on eggshells in your mansion, knowing that the slightest misstep might ignite your wrath.

Today was one of those days.

A sharp crack echoed in the mansion's silence—the sound of fabric crisping under too much heat. Joshua's eyes widened in horror as he held up the half-charred remains of your favorite black suit jacket. Panic set in immediately.

The door slammed open moments later. You stepped in, your eyes cold, unreadable—like a storm that hadn't yet decided if it would explode.

Your gaze dropped to the suit.

Silence. Deadly.

“Joshua…” you spoke his name low and slow, dragging out each syllable like a promise of pain. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

He flinched. “I-I was just trying to iron it, I didn’t mean—”

“Did I ask what you meant?” you snapped, voice venomous. Your hand slammed down on the table beside you, making him jolt. “That was my favorite suit. The one I wear when I’m dealing with people who owe me blood.”

Joshua’s hands trembled as he held the scorched fabric, tears welling in his eyes.

You stepped closer, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. Your face was calm now—calm in the way a predator is before it pounces.

“You want to play with fire? Then let’s burn, sweetheart.”

You shoved him back, watching him stumble.

“I want 100 pizzas. Fresh. Made by your hands. Delivered to my office before midnight.” You tilted your head slightly, lips curling into a cold smile. “And if you fail… oh, you’ll pay, love. In ways you haven’t even dreamed of yet.”

You leaned in, whispering against his ear, voice like a blade. “Tick tock, baby boy. Make. Me. Proud.”