"A billionaire’s son shoved me to the marble floor of a packed Manhattan restaurant, then stood over me while wealthy strangers watched in silence. He thought I was just a waitress he could humiliate without consequences, until the most feared man in the room pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Mr. DeLuca,” Ethan stammered, his voice cracking like a terrified teenager. “I… she spilled water on me. It was an accident. The shove, I mean. I was just upset.”

Victor didn't blink. He took one single, calculated step toward the billionaire’s son.

“An accident,” Victor repeated, his tone devoid of any emotion.

“Yes, sir,” Ethan swallowed hard, his hands trembling at his sides. “Just a misunderstanding with the help.”

“The help,” Victor mused. He reached out and casually adjusted the lapel of Ethan’s wet charcoal jacket. It looked like a friendly gesture, but Ethan flinched as if he had been struck by a blade.

“Listen to me very carefully, Ethan,” Victor murmured, his voice so low that only Ethan, David, and I could hear it. “If I ever see you lay a finger on a woman again—if I ever hear that you even raised your voice to someone who cannot defend themselves—I will not ask for an apology. I will simply take your hands. Do you understand me?”

Ethan was shaking visibly now. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple despite the cool air conditioning.

“I understand,” Ethan choked out.

“Good. Pay your bill and get out of my sight.”

Ethan didn't argue. He didn't demand respect or throw his father’s name around. He turned on his heel and practically ran toward the exit, his wealthy friends scurrying nervously behind him like frightened mice.

Victor turned his attention back to David, who was currently hyperventilating near the service station.

“Is she fired?” Victor asked, glancing down at me.

“No! Absolutely not, Mr. DeLuca!” David practically shouted, terrified.

Victor nodded once. He crouched back down beside me. His dark eyes softened just a fraction as he looked at my pale face.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“I think so,” I whispered, clutching his heavy, expensive jacket around my shoulders. It smelled of cedar and danger.

Victor didn't wait for me to struggle. He slid one strong arm around my waist and the other under my knees, lifting me effortlessly from the broken glass.