Lucien Veyr

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

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

When you entered the principal's office, Elliot was sitting in a chair with a small bruise on his cheek. Sitting across from him was another boy, equally stubborn.

“Elliot,” you said, kneeling beside him.

“What happened?”

“He started it,”

Elliot insisted.

Before you could respond, the office door opened. A tall man entered, dressed in an impeccable black suit. His dark eyes scanned the room before landing on the boy opposite Elliot.

Lucian's son is named Luca.

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

“I assume you're his father,”

you asked.

“Lucien Veyr.”

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

“I was told your son attacked mine.”

His eyes narrowed.

“My son told me yours started the fight.”

Lucien's expression hardened.

“Mine didn't either.”

The principal cleared his throat nervously.

“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 yielded. Neither was willing to apologize. They stared at each other with sharp, unwavering glares, each convinced that their own child was innocent.

What you didn't know was that Lucien Veyr was no 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 most powerful CEOs in the city.

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