That night, Ryan's black car stopped in front of a luxurious restaurant shimmering with crystal lights. The door opened, and the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the soft notes of classical music drifted from inside.
Dyana Rosey stepped out slowly, her eyes widening as she read the restaurant's sign La Belle Étoile.
"Ryan… why did you bring me here?" she asked, half-angry, half-incredulous.
Ryan slipped his hands into his coat pockets, smiling casually. "Why? You don't like fancy places?"
"It's not that I don't like it…" Dyana Rosey shot him a look. "But I don't think it's right to come to a place like this dressed so plainly." She glanced down at her outfit a white blouse and blue jeans. "I look more like the staff than a guest."
Ryan chuckled softly, his tone relaxed. "If the staff looked like you, I'd come here every day."
Dyana Rosey glared at him again. "Don't try to flirt your way out of this. I'm being serious, Ryan."
"Relax, Dyan," Ryan said, patting her shoulder lightly. "You know… if it were any other woman, she'd already be smiling from ear to ear getting invited to a place like this. Probably take ten selfies before even touching the food. But you…you get mad first, then think about eating."
Dyana Rosey turned away, trying to hide her smile. "That's because I'm not like other women, Ryan."
Ryan stifled a laugh. "Yeah, I know. You're the kind of woman who can actually scare me, even though I deal with tough clients all the time."
"Well, at least there's something you're afraid of," Dyana Rosey shot back sarcastically, though her gaze had already softened.
They walked into the restaurant. A waiter greeted them with a professional smile.
"Good evening, Mr. Ryan. Table for two?"
Ryan nodded. Dyana Rosey looked around, impressed though she tried to hide it. "Hmm, this place looks expensive. You sure your wallet won't be screaming later?"
Ryan grinned, suppressing a laugh. "My wallet's used to crying, Dyan. But if it means I get to see you smile tonight, it's worth it."
Dyana Rosey raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. "You're pretty good at charming people, huh?"
Ryan leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Not everyone, Dyan. Just you — you're the hard one to win over."
Dyana Rosey smiled softly as she set down her spoon. "Thank you… Ryan. For bringing me to such a nice place. It really calms me a little."
Ryan only nodded, his gaze fixed on her radiant face under the warm lights. That genuine smile made his heart grow heavier. In his mind, the words he wanted to say wrestled with the fear that kept holding him back.
He grasped his glass, his fingers trembling slightly. "Dyan… there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
Dyana Rosey looked at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. "About what?"
Ryan swallowed hard, searching for strength. But the moment his eyes met Dyana Rosey's those honest, calm eyes every word he wanted to say vanished into thin air. He knew that if he told her about his investigation on Marchos Alexander, about himself, and most of all about his feelings, Dyana Rosey's peaceful night would be ruined.
"No… it's nothing," he said softly, forcing his voice to sound casual. "I just wanted to make sure you eat enough tonight. You've gotten thinner."
Dyana Rosey chuckled and shook her head. "You always worry about small things, Ryan. I'm fine, really."
Ryan smiled faintly. Inside, guilt twisted like a knife. I know I should tell you, Dyan. But… I can't bear to see you break again once you find out who I really am.
After a dinner filled with laughter and light teasing, Dyana Rosey excused herself to the restroom. Ryan nodded, smiling as he finished the last sip of wine in his glass. The restaurant's atmosphere had grown calmer, accompanied only by the soft melody of a violin that made the night feel almost perfect.
But everything changed in an instant.
As Dyana Rosey stepped out of the restroom and walked toward their table, she stopped abruptly. Her shoulder brushed against someone an older man with a neatly trimmed beard, dressed impeccably, radiating authority. She lifted her gaze… and the blood in her body seemed to freeze.
Mr. Michael.
Her father.
"Pa…" The word caught in her throat.
Mr. Michael froze for a moment, but his expression quickly hardened, cold and emotionless like ice that had never melted.
His eyes lingered on Dyana Rosey for only a second, showing no recognition, no warmth as if he were looking at a stranger.
Dyana Rosey swallowed hard, her eyes starting to glisten. Her heart screamed to run into his arms, to release the years of buried longing. But her hands stayed frozen at her sides. She knew… her father still hated her. Still hadn't forgiven the mistake that had torn their family apart.
Without a word, Mr. Michael turned to leave, his steps steady and cold leaving Dyana Rosey standing there, her old wounds suddenly ripped open again.
Before she could take a breath to calm herself, a voice she knew all too well spoke from behind her.
"Well, well… What an interesting coincidence."
Dyana Rosey's body stiffened. Marchos Alexander appeared, his signature mocking smile playing on his lips the kind that always made her blood boil. He walked toward her slowly, confidently, like a predator closing in on its prey.
Before Dyana Rosey could step back, Marchos Alexander suddenly wrapped an arm around her shoulder gently, but with unmistakable intent.
"Mr. Michael," Marchos greeted with a sly smile toward the man who was walking away.
"Allow me to introduce my fiancée."
Dyana Rosey's eyes widened in shock. Without thinking, she shoved his chest roughly.
"Are you insane?!" she half-yelled, her voice trembling. "No! Papa… I don't even know him!"
Mr. Michael, who had been about to leave, stopped dead in his tracks. His body went rigid as Marchos Alexander's calm yet confident voice reached his ears the words that struck like lightning.
"Allow me to introduce my fiancée…"
The older man slowly turned around. His gaze landed squarely on Dyana Rosey the daughter he had long cast out of his life now standing beside the one man he knew too well in the corporate world: Marchos Alexander.
For a brief moment, the world fell silent. Even the restaurant's music seemed to fade away.
"M–Marchos Alexander?" Mr. Michael said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Did you just say… your fiancée?"
Dyana Rosey swallowed hard, her whole body trembling. She knew her father had completely misunderstood. "Papa, it's not like that! I don't even know him! He—"
But Marchos Alexander cut her off smoothly, still wearing that faint, devilish smile, as if savoring the chaos he had created.
"Yes, Mr. Michael. I'm serious. Rosey will be my wife. I fell in love with her."
Dyana Rosey snapped her head toward him. "Stop saying that! I never—"
Mr. Michael's gaze flicked between the two of them, his expression shifting from shock, to confusion, and finally to fury.
"Is this true?" His voice was tight, every word gritted through clenched teeth.
"No, Pa! I don't even know him!" Dyana Rosey tried to explain, her voice shaking with emotion. "He—he's just toying with me!"
Marchos Alexander laughed softly, the sound cold and cruel. "Toying with you? Oh no, sweetheart… I'm just being honest. Besides, your father deserves to know what kind of man is worthy of standing beside his daughter."
Some of the nearby guests began to turn their heads toward them. Dyana Rosey lowered her gaze, her face burning with shame and anger. Mr. Michael's fist clenched tightly.
"Enough!" he barked, low but sharp. "Don't you dare drag my daughter's name into your filthy games, Alexander. I know exactly what kind of man you are — one who'd do anything for power."
Marchos Alexander smirked. "And you know, Mr. Michael… I always get what I want."
The air grew heavy, tension thick enough to cut through. Mr. Michael drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to strike the younger man right there. Finally, he turned to Dyana, his voice low but firm.
"Rosey," he said, his tone deep and commanding. "Come with me. Now."
Dyana Rosey froze. Her chest tightened as if her lungs had stopped working. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her father's gaze was stern — leaving no room for refusal.
"Papa, I—"
"Don't say another word," his voice cut through sharply. "We'll talk at home. For now, you're coming with me."
Marchos Alexander, who had been watching silently, smiled that sinister smile again. His gaze locked on Dyana Rosey's trembling figure.
"Leaving already, sweetheart? Without saying goodbye to your future husband?" His voice dripped with mockery but there was something dark beneath it.
Mr. Michael turned sharply toward him. "That's enough, Alexander. Don't you dare touch or bother my daughter again."
Marchos Alexander only raised an eyebrow, his tone taunting. "Mr. Michael… The world is small. I'm sure we'll see each other again sooner than you think."
Dyana Rosey lowered her head, her whole body trembling. She knew Marchos Alexander wasn't the kind of man who gave up easily. But at least now, her father's presence, that firm, protective figure she had longed for, gave her a fleeting sense of safety, however temporary.
Mr. Michael gently took Dyana Rosey's wrist and led her out of the restaurant. Several guests still stared curiously as they left. The glittering chandeliers above bore silent witness to a reunion between father and daughter , one long separated, yet overshadowed by the threat of a dangerous man who would not retreat.
Inside the restaurant, Marchos Alexander remained standing where he was. He straightened his collar, then smiled faintly.
"You can take her away, Mr. Michael," he murmured quietly.
"But believe me… Rosey will come back to me eventually."
Dyana Rosey remained silent beside her father. Their steps were brisk as they left the luxurious restaurant, as if both were eager to forget what had just happened. But Dyana Rosey's heart was still pounding ,caught between shame, fear, and confusion.
Mr. Michael's face remained tense. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, yet it was clear that a storm was raging inside his mind.
But their steps suddenly came to a halt when a man appeared in front of them , Ryan.
"Dyan?" he called softly.
Dyana Rosey froze. She had completely forgotten about Ryan the man who had taken her to dinner earlier, the one who had tried to cheer her up after a long day. Now everything felt chaotic.
"Ryan…" she whispered, her eyes widening.
Ryan took a step closer. But as soon as his eyes fell on the man beside her, he stiffened slightly, then offered a faint smile and bowed politely.
"Uncle… "It's been a long time since we last met," he said respectfully. "The last time… if I'm not mistaken, was at my parents' funeral."
His tone was calm, but there was a quiet sadness behind that smile.
Mr. Michael looked at him for a long time, as if trying to recall the face. Then his expression softened slightly. "Ryan… it's been a long time."
Ryan nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes, Uncle. I… never thought we'd meet like this."
Dyana Rosey could only watch the two men, one representing her painful past, and the other her uncertain present. She felt trapped between two worlds, two men, each carrying their own story.
Mr. Michael nodded slowly. "I didn't expect it either."
Yet his voice remained cold, and his eyes briefly shifted toward Dyana Rosey.
"You. Get in the car."
The firm tone made Dyana Rosey freeze. But before she could move, Ryan looked at her, worried filling his eyes.
"Dyan, are you okay?"
Dyana Rosey tried to give a faint smile, though her heart was in turmoil. "I'm… okay. I'm going home now. I'm sorry."
But that smile couldn't fool Ryan. He knew something serious had happened that night something involving Marchos Alexander, and now, Mr. Michael.
In truth, Ryan had been there long before Dyana Rosey and Mr. Michael left the restaurant. He had been watching from a distance, his eyes never leaving Dyana Rosey, who had looked nervous ever since Marchos Alexander suddenly appeared earlier that evening.
When he saw Mr. Michael grab Dyana Rosey and lead her out tensely, Ryan almost stepped forward. His heart battled between confronting Marchos Alexander or holding back.
Finally, he took a deep breath and loosened his fists.
No, not now… If I make a wrong move, Dyan will be the one to pay.
Now, after that brief encounter, Ryan could only stand still and watch Dyana Rosey leave with her father. His eyes held deep worry and regret that he hadn't been able to warn her.
As Mr. Michael's car disappeared into the night, Ryan turned back toward the restaurant.
From across the street, in the dim glow of the streetlights, he saw a figure watching. A face he recognized all too well.
Marchos Alexander.
The man stood calmly, a cigarette in hand, as if savoring every moment of the unfolding drama. His gaze was sharp, meaningful.
Smoke curled lazily from his lips as a faint smirk appeared.
"Interesting…" Marchos Alexander murmured. "The game has only just begun."