Austin Chen's POV
They thought I wouldn't find out.
They thought they could touch her with their words, chip away at her light, and walk away untouched.
They were wrong.
I don't make threats.
I make promises.
And tonight—I was keeping one.
I sat at the head of the long, black table in the private suite of a rooftop club they'd never even heard of. Glass walls. A view of the city that sparkled like a crown beneath us. And three trembling high schoolers across from me.
One boy. Two girls.
Each of them wearing uniforms with the Chen family crest embroidered on the breast pocket.
My men had done well. The driver who adored Ava had pulled school records. The security head—who she once helped name his cat—tracked down their home addresses. The gardener gave me the footage.
And now… here we were.
The boy tried to speak.
I raised a hand.
He shut up.
Good.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked quietly.
The second girl swallowed. "Y-You're Mr. Chen—Ava's father. CEO of—of Chen Corpora—"
"I'm not here to talk about business," I interrupted.
I leaned back in my chair. The silence was thick. I let it stretch.
"You made my daughter cry."
No one breathed.
"You told her she was too much. Said she was abandoned. Said I was too young to be her father. That she must be some brat clinging to the only person who tolerates her."
The boy looked pale. Sweating.
"I have a daughter," I said, fingers tapping the table. "She's soft. Gentle. She still holds my hand when she sleeps. She buys cookies for the drivers and talks to my men like they're family. That girl cries when she sees a dead bee."
I smiled.
It didn't reach my eyes.
"And you made her question if she was lovable."
I stood.
They flinched.
My tone didn't rise—but the air turned colder.
"I have built empires," I said. "I've toppled industries. I've made grown men disappear for less than what you said to her."
The city lights behind me blinked red.
"I'm not going to ruin you."
They looked up in surprise.
I tilted my head.
"That would be too easy."
I nodded to one of my men—Rafe, the one Ava always gave mints to because he "looked grumpy." He handed me a stack of files. I tossed them on the table.
"Inside those folders are your records. Your parents' debts. Your social media passwords. Your college applications. All of it."
I leaned forward.
"You'll transfer schools tomorrow. Overseas. Quietly."
"What—?" one girl gasped.
"You'll write an anonymous confession to the school," I continued, "explaining that you fabricated lies about Ava Chen. You'll praise her. Apologize. Make it public. You'll start following a new narrative: that she is kind. Smart. Impossible not to love."
The boy opened his mouth.
"I wasn't done."
He froze.
"You'll do all of this… and you'll never speak to her again. Never look at her. If she enters a room, you leave. If she's online, you log off. You'll erase yourself from her world."
I let the silence settle.
"If I hear a whisper," I said, voice low, "if I even sense she's hurting again…"
I nodded to my left.
A second screen flickered to life.
Security footage.
Their parents. Their homes. Their weaknesses.
"I don't destroy teenagers," I said simply. "But I will destroy legacies."
Silence.
They nodded.
Tears streamed down the girl's cheeks. The boy looked like he might throw up. The third didn't move—frozen, lips trembling.
"Good," I said quietly. "Now leave."
They ran.
And I—cold again, mask on—poured a drink and turned to the city.
Behind me, Rafe spoke softly. "You going to tell her?"
"No," I said, swirling the glass.
"She'll find out eventually."
"She won't."
He raised an eyebrow.
I smiled. The real kind.
"She doesn't need to know the world is sharp. Not yet. She thinks it's full of flowers and sunshine and men who tie bows in their daughter's hair."
"And math homework."
I snorted.
"And math homework."
I downed the drink.
"For her," I said, "the world will stay kind. Soft. Safe."
And if anyone tries to change that?
They'll find out just how sharp I can be.