Angelo Moretti

The storm raged outside, rain hammering relentlessly against the floor-to-ceiling windows while thunder rolled across the night sky.

Inside his office, Angelo sat behind a massive mahogany desk buried beneath stacks of documents. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated his sharp features, though his expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever.

A woman with long black hair lounged comfortably on his lap. Her elegant black dress was deliberately designed to draw attention, its lace-trimmed neckline revealing more than it concealed. With practiced familiarity, she lit the end of a cigar before placing it between Angelo's lips.

"When are you finally going to stop staring at those papers?" she complained, leaning against him. "I'm getting bored."

Her fingers wandered across his chest, tracing the exposed skin beneath the two undone buttons of his shirt.

Angelo didn't even spare her a glance.

"You can leave."

His voice was calm, cold, and utterly uninterested as cigar smoke drifted lazily through the room.

"Leave you?" The woman laughed softly. "Oh, no. You said you wanted company tonight. Why would I leave now?"

She pressed herself closer to him.

For the first time, Angelo's posture stiffened. Without warning, he caught her wrist and pulled her away before pushing her back onto the mahogany desk.

The woman only smiled wider, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I've been looking forward to this," she purred.

Before anything could continue, Angelo's phone vibrated.

The screen displayed a name.

Layla.

His wife.

An irritated click of his tongue escaped him.

Taking one final drag from the cigar, he answered the call.

"What?"

He rose from his chair and walked toward the vast glass windows overlooking the rain-soaked city below.

Thunder flashed across the sky.

From the reflection in the glass, his brows slowly furrowed.

"You can't even take care of a child?"

His tone sharpened immediately.

Through the call, he could hear Felix crying.

A one-year-old's desperate cries echoed through the speaker.

"Fever?" Angelo cursed under his breath. "Damn it. I'm coming."

The call ended instantly.

He crushed the cigar into the ashtray before tossing it aside.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked, still sitting on the desk. "We're not finished."

"My son has a fever."

Angelo grabbed his coat and car keys.

"That woman can't handle him alone."

The disappointment on the woman's face was obvious.

"That's a shame. You rarely call me these days."

She paused before adding with a smirk,

"Your wife is useless, isn't she? Just like the rumors say."

Angelo stopped halfway through putting on his coat.

For a moment, silence filled the office.

Then he spoke.

"Yes. She's terrible at everything."

His deep voice carried unmistakable disdain.

Satisfied, the woman stepped forward and straightened his coat.

"Call me again, okay?"

Angelo gave her only a brief glance before walking past her without another word.

────────

By the time Angelo arrived at the main mansion, the storm had grown even worse.

The grand doors opened as servants hurried to greet him.

Following closely behind was Emmett, the estate's experienced head butler.

"Has the doctor arrived?" Angelo asked without slowing his pace.

"Yes, sir. However..." Emmett hesitated. "Young Master's fever hasn't gone down yet."

Angelo's jaw tightened.

His footsteps quickened.

When he reached the nursery, he pushed the door open immediately.

The room was warm, heavy with tension.

Layla sat nearby, holding Felix in her arms while the child cried weakly. Beside them, the family doctor carefully adjusted a warm compress against the toddler's forehead.

The moment Angelo entered, everyone seemed to stiffen.

Without saying a word, he took Felix from Layla's arms.

The crying child immediately buried his face against Angelo's shoulder.

"Check the room temperature."

His voice was firm but controlled, careful not to startle the child further.

Emmett bowed and hurried away.

Angelo then turned toward the doctor.

"I want Felix monitored every twenty minutes."

The doctor's face paled.

"Make sure the medication works. If my son gets worse because of your incompetence..."

Angelo's cold gaze locked onto him.

"...you'll regret it."

The doctor quickly nodded and moved to obey.

Only then did Angelo finally look at Layla.

His eyes traveled from head to toe.

Not with affection.

Not even with interest.

Only disappointment.

"I am still trying to find your purpose in this house."

His words struck like knives.

"You can't take care of yourself, and now you can't even take care of your own child."

He adjusted Felix carefully in his arms, gently patting the boy's back as he walked toward the closed window.

Outside, rain continued to pound against the glass.

"Don't let me hear complaints when I choose to spend my time with other women."

His voice was icy.

The nursery fell silent except for Felix's soft cries and the distant rumble of thunder beyond the storm-darkened night.