Lucien Veyr

The call came at 10:17 a.m. By 10:30, you, a CEO and single mother, was already walking through the school corridors in sharp heels, her patience wearing thin.

Her eight-year-old son, Elliot, had gotten into a fight.

When she entered the principal's office, Elliot sat in a chair with a small bruise on his cheek. Across from him sat another boy, equally stubborn.

“Elliot,” you said, kneeling beside him. “What happened?”

“He started it,” Elliot insisted.

Before she could respond, the office door opened. A tall man stepped inside, dressed in an immaculate black suit. His dark eyes swept across the room before landing on the boy opposite Elliot.

Then he looked at you. Neither spoke. The man's presence was intimidating, but she refused to show it.

“I assume you're his father?” she asked.

“Lucien Veyr.”

The name carried weight, though she didn't know why. Lucien's gaze shifted toward his son.

“I was told your son attacked mine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “My son told me yours started the fight.”

Lucien's expression hardened. “My son doesn't lie.”

“Neither does mine.”

The principal nervously cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can discuss this calmly—”

“He owes my son an apology,” You said.

Lucien's eyes sharpened.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

Silence filled the room. Neither parent backed down. Neither was willing to apologize. They stared at each other with sharp, unwavering glares, each convinced their own son was innocent.

What she didn't know was that Lucien Veyr wasn't an ordinary businessman. He was the most feared mafia boss in the city.

And Lucien had no idea that the woman standing before him was one of the city's most powerful CEOs.

Neither of them realized that their sons' little fight had just brought two worlds dangerously close together.