"My daughter's… boyfriend?"
Otto Octavius Ahlgrymm, the billionaire patriarch and former elite Witch Hunter, stood entirely frozen in the middle of the opulent, heavily guarded VIP section. The words tumbled from his lips slowly, syllable by agonizing syllable, as if he were trying to test the taste of a foreign, deeply distasteful language on his tongue.
His glowing magenta eyes, which had previously been glaring with intense, overprotective suspicion at the handsome stranger holding his daughter, suddenly widened to an impossible, almost comical degree. The gears in his highly analytical, veteran mind violently ground to a halt as the name finally registered.
Max Theo Hoffman.
For a fraction of a second, the bustling, high-society charity gala faded away. Otto's mind flashed back decades into the dark, bloody shadows of the supernatural underworld. He remembered the name Hoffman. It was a name synonymous with absolute terror, unpredictable madness, and ancient, royal vampire blood.
"Hah!" Otto suddenly barked out loud.
It was a sharp, incredibly bitter sound of pure, unadulterated disbelief that echoed loudly over the soft, elegant classical music playing from the live orchestra in the corner of the grand ballroom.
He took a heavy, imposing step forward, his towering, massively built frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over the pristine white tablecloth. The immaculate, bespoke tailoring of his expensive black tuxedo seemed to groan and strain against the sudden, violent tension coiling in his broad shoulders. He looked less like a billionaire CEO in this moment and more like the ruthless monster hunter he used to be.
"To think… to think that the one my precious, brilliant daughter is supposedly dating is a fucking Hoffman!" Otto shouted, his voice booming with a volatile mixture of sheer, protective outrage and deeply rooted historical prejudice.
He honestly couldn't believe it. His brain simply refused to accept the terrifying reality standing right in front of him. Out of all the eligible bachelors in the entire world, out of all the wealthy, politically connected heirs and brilliant young scientists he had carefully, meticulously vetted for his daughters over the years, Bellatrix—his most precious, intellectually gifted, and innocent child—was standing here. She was standing in the very arms of the son of Arkeninna D. Hoffman and the psychotic Dietrich Hoffman.
The sheer, unrestrained volume of Otto's sudden outburst caused an immediate, rippling effect throughout the highly exclusive VIP area.
The surrounding tables, previously filled with the quiet, polite murmurs of ultra-rich elites, powerful politicians, and high-society socialites discussing corporate mergers and charity donations, suddenly fell dead silent. The clinking of expensive crystal champagne glasses ceased.
Dozens of heads snapped toward their table in unison. The wealthy patrons of North Carolina's absolute elite, dressed in glittering, diamond-studded gowns and razor-sharp tailored suits, looked on with wide, scandalized eyes. Some of the older, pearl-clutching socialites gasped softly, raising their white-gloved hands to cover their mouths in profound shock at hearing such harsh, unfiltered profanity from the usually composed, endlessly stoic billionaire patriarch in the middle of a high-class charity gala.
Whispers began to break out like wildfire. The hushed gossip spread rapidly through the glittering crowd as they eagerly watched the unfolding drama, wondering who the handsome young man in the violet waistcoat was to warrant such intense fury from Otto Ahlgrymm.
Max didn't flinch at the shouting. He didn't even blink.
He didn't cower under the immense, crushing weight of the billionaire's furious glare, nor did he care even a fraction of a percent about the judgmental, wide-eyed stares of the surrounding elites. He was the Reaper. He had stood his ground against towering, demonic warlords, survived the burning magic of holy Saintesses, and fought furious kings across his past thirty thousand lifetimes in the magical realm. An angry, overprotective human father in a black tuxedo barely even registered as a blip on his tactical radar.
Instead of backing down or offering a panicked apology, Max simply raised a single, inquisitive amber eyebrow. He kept his posture completely relaxed, leaving his right arm wrapped securely and protectively around Bellatrix's slender waist. He acted as a solid, unyielding anchor, holding her slightly trembling body flush against his side to assure her that she was perfectly safe.
"Did you know my parents?" Max asked calmly.
His voice was incredibly smooth, level, and entirely devoid of the stammering panic or terrifying intimidation that Otto clearly expected to see from a young suitor caught in the crosshairs of his rage.
"Of course I know your parents, young man!" Otto practically spat the words out, his glowing magenta eyes blazing with old, unresolved grievances and phantom memories of blood and fangs. He raised his arm and pointed a trembling, accusatory finger directly at the center of Max's chest. "I know your mother extremely well! And I certainly know your own son of a bitch of a father!"
The temperature around their table seemed to instantly plummet to absolute zero.
Max's bright amber eyes darkened in a microsecond, the golden hues shifting into something ancient and terrifying. The polite, highly respectful facade of the perfect aristocratic boyfriend cracked for the briefest fraction of a second, revealing a chilling glimpse of the lethal, unfeeling assassin hiding beneath the custom-tailored violet waistcoat.
"Hey," Max warned softly.
His voice dropped an entire octave, transforming from a smooth conversational tone into a low, dangerous rumble that sent a sudden, involuntary chill racing down the spines of the eavesdropping socialites sitting at the adjacent tables.
"My dad is not a son of a bitch," Max stated, his words clipped and heavy with a dark promise. "And my grandmother is definitely not a bitch, either. Watch your mouth."
To emphasize his point, he pulled Bellatrix just a fraction of an inch closer to his chest, his grip firm and uncompromising. He glared right back at Otto, effortlessly matching the older man's intense, suffocating killing intent with an ancient, overwhelming aura of absolute death of his own.
Otto stared deeply into Max's darkening amber eyes, suddenly feeling a heavy, crushing pressure settling over the air in the ballroom. For a brief, terrifying second, the former elite Witch Hunter recognized the undeniable look of a true, hardened killer. He saw a man who had taken more lives than he could possibly count.
But Otto was a father. He was too angry, too protective, and far too stressed out to simply back down and submit to the younger man's aura.
He let out a long, heavy, incredibly exhausted sigh, his broad shoulders slumping just a fraction. He raised a large hand to aggressively rub his forehead, trying to knead away the massive, throbbing headache that had been steadily building behind his eyes all night.
He was already suffering so much tonight. His other daughters had been constantly whining at him all week, endlessly demanding that he buy them ridiculously expensive new designer gowns and rare diamond jewelry specifically for this exact charity gala. And now, as the absolute worst cherry on top of his miserable, stressful evening, he had just discovered that the son of the infamous, psychotic Dietrich Hoffman had somehow managed to approach and seduce his most innocent, isolated, and socially awkward daughter.
"Sigh. I don't have the patience to stand here and argue with you in front of these nosy vultures," Otto grumbled under his breath. He glared viciously at the whispering crowd of elites, silencing a few nearby tables with a single look, before turning his sharp, commanding gaze back to Max and Bellatrix.
"You two, come with me right now!" Otto commanded, his tone sharp and leaving absolutely no room for debate or negotiation. He jabbed a thick finger toward the private, heavily guarded exit hallway that led to the executive elevators. "And don't you dare speak another word to me, young man!"
Max let out a quiet, internal sigh of his own. The protective rage simmering in his chest cooled down as he looked down at the woman wrapped in his arm.
Bellatrix was trembling slightly in her beautiful gothic dress. Her gray eyes were blown wide with panic, darting nervously between the furious, imposing figure of her billionaire father and the cold, unyielding profile of her new boyfriend. She looked entirely overwhelmed, caught perfectly in the crossfire of the two most dangerous, stubborn men in her life.
Sensing his gaze, Bellatrix looked up at Max. She gave him a small, subtle, desperate nod, her gray eyes silently pleading with him. She was begging him to just swallow his pride and play along with her father's demands so they didn't cause a massive, violent public scene that would completely ruin the entire charity event and end up on the front page of tomorrow's financial news.
Max, possessing lifetimes of experience reading micro-expressions, read her silent plea perfectly.
For her sake, and her sake alone, the dark, dangerous tension instantly bled out of his broad shoulders. He smoothly and flawlessly transitioned back into his role. The lethal assassin vanished, replaced once again by the polite, deeply devoted, and slightly arrogant aristocratic partner.
"Very well," Max said smoothly, his voice returning to its calm, confident, and polite volume that carried clearly over the lingering whispers of the crowd. He took a half-step back and offered Otto a highly sarcastic, exaggeratedly formal half-bow. "If my beautiful angel wants both of us to follow her father, then let's go together."
Bellatrix let out a soft, shaky breath of immense relief. She looked up at him, a genuine, radiant smile breaking through her heavy anxiety. She was incredibly, profoundly grateful that he was actually willing to swallow his massive, legendary pride and follow her angry father's orders purely for her sake.
Max then turned his body to fully face her.
In a sudden display of flawless, old-world chivalry that perfectly matched the archaic, high-society aesthetic of his violet waistcoat and her elegant gothic dress, he gently took her left hand in his right. He bowed his head low, maintaining eye contact with her for a second, and then pressed a soft, warm, lingering kiss directly to the back of her gray-gloved knuckles, executing the gesture right in front of her furious father and the entire stunned VIP section.
Bellatrix's pale face instantly erupted into a brilliant, furious shade of crimson red. The sudden, highly romantic gesture executed in the dead center of such a tense, terrifying confrontation completely short-circuited her brilliant, scientific brain.
"M—Max…" Bellatrix whispered, her voice trembling violently with a mixture of intense, overwhelming embarrassment and profound, heart-fluttering affection.
Max lifted his head, his amber eyes locking onto hers with absolute, unshakable devotion. He stood up straight, offering his hand to her palm-up in a formal, inviting gesture, completely ignoring the furious man standing just a few feet away.
"Take my hand, my princess," Max said, his voice smooth and carrying clearly across the quiet, eavesdropping tables.
Bellatrix widened her gray eyes to an impossible degree as she heard him call her 'princess' with such raw, genuine sincerity.
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, beating so fast she thought it might break through her chest. It wasn't a joke this time. He wasn't just teasing her or playing a historical roleplay game to pass the time. He meant it. He was publicly claiming her in front of the most powerful people in the state, and more importantly, in front of her terrifying father.
She slowly raised her trembling left hand and placed it delicately into his strong, waiting palm. As her gloved fingers intertwined tightly with his, a collective, audible gasp rippled through the crowd of elite women sitting at the nearby tables.
"Oh my god, did you hear that?" one young, diamond-clad socialite whispered loudly to her friend, furiously fanning her flushed face with an ornate menu. "That was so incredibly smooth! They look like a literal couple stepping straight out of a high-budget romantic movie!"
"I know! Just look at how incredibly handsome he is, fearlessly defending her from her scary father! I wish I had a man who looked at me like that!" another wealthy heiress swooned, completely captivated by the unfolding drama.
Otto, possessing highly tuned hearing, caught every single romantic murmur and swooning whisper from the crowd. He looked at his own daughter, seeing her blushing like a hopelessly smitten, lovestruck teenager as she clung to Max's hand. He clenched his fists at his sides so tightly that his knuckles turned pure, bone white.
"Stop being so goddamn flirty with each other in public!" Otto shouted, his face turning a dark shade of magenta that perfectly matched the furious glow of his eyes. "And follow me right now, you shameless brats!"
Without waiting for a response or a witty comeback, Otto sharply turned on his heel. He began to march out of the VIP room, his heavy, imposing footsteps stomping aggressively against the highly polished marble floor as he carved a path toward the exits.
Max watched the angry, towering billionaire storm off, and he couldn't hold it back anymore. A low, rich, highly amused chuckle escaped his lips.
"We will, Father-In-Law~" Max called out after him, his voice dripping with highly intentional, playful sarcasm that was guaranteed to spike the older man's blood pressure.
Bellatrix let out a long, heavy sigh, bringing her free hand up to cover her red face as she laughed quietly at his sheer, unadulterated audacity.
"I honestly can't believe you right now," Bellatrix murmured, shaking her head side to side in disbelief. She looked up at him through her fingers, her gray eyes shining with profound, unmistakable admiration.
She was genuinely, deeply amazed by him. She knew exactly how terrifying her father could be. Otto Ahlgrymm wasn't just a wealthy businessman; he had a legendary, blood-soaked reputation in the shadows for completely intimidating, threatening, and shaming any prospective suitors who dared to approach his daughters for their wealth. Most normal men, even the heirs to massive corporate empires, would be sweating profusely, stammering over their words, and physically shaking in their expensive shoes when faced with Otto's heavy, suffocating killing intent.
And yet, Max wasn't even remotely frightened. He wasn't scared of losing his wealth, and he certainly wasn't scared of Otto's physical intimidation. He was treating the furious, legendary billionaire patriarch like a minor, slightly annoying inconvenience on their date.
"I am really, truly blessed to have a shameless boyfriend like you," Bellatrix said softly, removing her hand from her face and putting her fingers over her lips as she giggled.
Max smiled down at her, giving her small hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as they began to walk, following the path Otto had cleared through the crowd.
"You're very welcome, Your Highness, Princess Laurentina," Max replied smoothly, intentionally using her formal middle name to keep the aristocratic, romantic roleplay going just to make her smile.
Bellatrix laughed brightly at the grand title. She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm seeping through her glove. All of her previous anxiety regarding the gala and the judgment of the elites melted away completely. With Max walking steadily and confidently by her side, holding her hand, she felt like she could face absolutely anything the world threw at her—even the legendary wrath of her intimidating father.
Together, hand-in-hand, they walked out of the grand ballroom, leaving the whispers of the socialites behind as they followed the angry path Otto had blazed toward the private, heavily guarded executive elevators.
***
The journey away from the crowded, noisy gala floor was tense, awkward, and entirely silent.
They had followed Otto past two heavily armed security checkpoints, flashing Max's VIP cards, and stepped into a private, glass-walled executive elevator reserved exclusively for the building owners and the highest-ranking political VIPs of the estate.
As the heavy glass elevator doors slid shut, sealing the three of them inside the quiet, humming transparent box, the true reality of their location came into spectacular view. The massive estate was built high on the elevated hills overlooking the sprawling, neon-lit metropolis of North Carolina.
Max stood near the very back of the elevator, keeping his body positioned slightly in front of Bellatrix as a protective instinct. He held her hand loosely but securely, his amber eyes scanning the breathtaking view through the glass as they ascended.
They were in the heart of a bustling modern American city. The world below hummed with familiar, chaotic energy. He could see the sprawling web of the I-277 highway loop in the distance, the headlights of thousands of cars looking like rivers of glowing blood pumping through the concrete veins of the city. The towering skyscrapers of the Uptown commercial district glittered like a sea of electric stars against the dark night sky. The glowing, iconic crown of the corporate banking towers pierced the low-hanging clouds, completely contrasting with the quiet, stiflingly tense atmosphere inside the small elevator car.
They were taking the elevator to the very top of the building, heading straight for the private, secluded rooftop garden where Otto could yell without causing a scandal. None of them had spoken a single word during the long ascent. Max and Bellatrix were simply too lazy to take the emergency stairs in their heavy formal attire, and Otto was clearly using the quiet time to close his eyes and try to physically calm his racing, furious heart.
—DING!
The elevator chimed softly, a pleasant electronic sound that signaled they had reached the top floor.
The glass doors slid open, revealing a sprawling, beautifully landscaped rooftop patio. The air up here was significantly cooler than the stuffy ballroom. A fresh, crisp night breeze blew across the roof, carrying the faint scent of city rain and concrete, providing a stark, welcome relief from the stifling heat and the overwhelming perfume of the gala below.
Otto marched out of the elevator first, his heavy shoes clicking against the stone tiles. He walked over to a polished stone bench positioned near the edge of the rooftop garden, his broad shoulders heaving with heavy, labored breaths.
He reached a trembling hand deep into the inner breast pocket of his tailored tuxedo jacket and pulled out a small, highly customized, silver pill pouch. With shaking fingers, he popped the cap open, shook two small, white pills into his large palm, and immediately threw them into his mouth. He swallowed them dry, without a drop of water, grimacing at the bitter taste.
Bellatrix, who had just stepped out of the elevator with Max, immediately zeroed in on her father's actions. She widened her gray eyes in sharp, professional medical concern as she recognized the specific container and saw him take a double dose of the heavy medication.
She immediately let go of Max's hand, her annoyance shifting into daughterly panic, and marched angrily toward her father.
"Dad! What did I explicitly tell you?!" Bellatrix scolded him, her voice ringing out across the quiet rooftop with the strict, uncompromising authority of a professional chemist who understood exactly what those powerful beta-blockers did to the human cardiovascular system.
Otto closed his eyes, leaning his heavy frame back against the cold stone wall. He let out a ragged, exhausted sigh as the potent medication began to rapidly take effect, artificially slowing his dangerously elevated heart rate and bringing his spiking blood pressure back down to a manageable level.
"To take only one pill per day. I know, Lauren," Otto grumbled, his voice lacking its usual, booming patriarchal strength. He opened his glowing magenta eyes, glaring tiredly at the young couple standing before him. "But why?! Can you possibly blame me for having a massive spike in my blood pressure tonight?! Why in God's name are you dating that shameless son of a bitch?!"
Max's jaw tightened instantly. The playful, sarcastic boyfriend routine vanished entirely from his demeanor.
"Hey," Max snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet night air like the crack of a whip.
He took a threatening, calculated step forward, placing himself between Otto and Bellatrix. "Don't you dare call me that again. And you have absolutely no right to call my dead mother a bitch, either. I won't warn you a third time."
Bellatrix immediately stepped back between the two massive men, raising her small hands to gently press against Max's chest to stop his forward momentum. But as she stopped her boyfriend, she turned her stern, unyielding gaze entirely onto her father. She nodded her head firmly, siding entirely and unapologetically with her partner.
"He's absolutely right, Father," Bellatrix defended Max, her tone completely devoid of her usual, quiet familial deference. She was not going to let her father bully him. "Don't call him a son of a bitch. And please, do not ever call his mother a bitch, either. Please, show some basic human respect for the dead!"
Max crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his weight casually onto one leg in a display of total nonchalance. He glared at Otto and muttered under his breath, though he intentionally projected his voice to make sure it was loud enough for the older man's enhanced hearing to catch every single word.
"Haah. At least the daughter actually has some decent respect for the dead, completely unlike her bitch-ass father."
Otto's head snapped up violently. The veins in his thick neck bulged visibly against the stiff, pristine white collar of his tuxedo shirt.
"What did you just say to me, you little punk?!" Otto roared, his magenta eyes flaring with renewed, violent anger, the medication barely keeping his fury in check. "Repeat what you just said right to my face!"
Max simply tilted his head to the side, offering a completely innocent, infuriatingly blank expression that he had perfected over thousands of years of taunting arrogant nobles.
"Nothing~" Max replied in a light, sing-song voice, shrugging his broad shoulders dismissively as if he were talking about the weather.
Otto pointed a trembling, furious finger directly at Max, turning his desperate gaze to his daughter to show her the undeniable evidence of the man's horrific character.
"See, Lauren?! Look at him! He is literally talking shit about me right to my face, even while I am standing directly in front of both of you! He has absolutely no respect for authority! I swear to God, he is exactly like his parents! Like mother, like son!"
Bellatrix let out a long, agonizing sigh, raising both of her hands to aggressively massage her temples. She shook her head side to side in profound, miserable defeat.
She desperately, truly wished her Auntie Irmela was here right now. Irmela was the only person in the entire family who knew how to de-escalate her father's explosive, legendary temper using magic or sheer stubbornness. This evening was supposed to be a magical, perfect conclusion to their third and final date. They were supposed to be having a romantic, candlelit dinner in the VIP section, followed by the secret, highly anticipated surprise Max had promised her on the ride over.
And yet, here they were, standing on a windy, cold rooftop in North Carolina, while her stubborn father and her fiercely proud boyfriend actively tried to verbally assassinate each other and ruin the entire night.
"Listen to me very carefully, Lauren," Otto commanded, stepping forward, his voice dropping into a deep tone of absolute, patriarchal finality. He was issuing an order, not a request. "I do not want you to date this man. I forbid it. And I do not ever want to see you anywhere near him again! You are coming home with me tonight!"
Max didn't even blink at the ultimate command. He just let out a highly exaggerated, sarcastic yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I don't wanna~" Max replied lazily, looking down and casually picking at a piece of imaginary lint on the lapel of his tailored violet waistcoat, completely ignoring the billionaire's authority.
Otto literally gritted his teeth. The harsh, grinding sound of his molars scraping together was clearly audible in the quiet night air. This young man was actively, intentionally, and masterfully testing the absolute limits of his patience. If they were back in the dark shadows of the underworld, if they were in a warehouse instead of a charity gala, Otto would have already drawn a silver-coated weapon and ended the conversation with violence.
Bellatrix stopped sighing. She lowered her hands from her temples and looked directly at her towering father. Her expression shifted entirely. The frustrated, embarrassed daughter vanished, replaced by a deadly serious, highly intelligent, independent woman who was tired of being controlled.
"Dad," Bellatrix asked, her voice remarkably steady and demanding an honest answer. "Can I ask you a logical question? Why exactly do you refuse to accept our relationship? What has he ever done to you to warrant this level of hatred?"
Otto let out a heavy, sorrowful sigh that seemed to age him ten years in a second. He took a slow step forward and gently, almost cautiously, placed his large, calloused hands on his daughter's delicate shoulders. He looked down at her, his anger fading, replaced by a look of genuine, desperate, paternal worry.
"Because I know the true, dark personality of his parents, Lauren," Otto explained, his voice losing its booming boom, replaced by a deep, weary sincerity. "And you can already see it for yourself! Look at him! His arrogant, infuriating, disrespectful personality perfectly mirrors his highly troublesome mother! And his intense, unwavering obsession towards you… the way he looks at you like you are the only thing in the world... it mirrors the exact same psychotic, destructive tendencies of his father!"
Otto shook his head, his magenta eyes pleading with her to understand the ancient danger she was inviting into her life.
"I know the bloody history of his bloodline, Lauren. I know the monsters that share his DNA. I know what he is truly capable of doing if he loses control. He won't be a good, safe man for you. I have spent my life fighting the shadows, and I have protected you your entire life from the darkness of this world. There are millions of safe, brilliant, normal human men in this world that you can choose from! Men who will give you a quiet, peaceful life! You can do so much better than this—this shameless, narcissistic, dangerous son of a bitch!"
Bellatrix listened quietly to his desperate, impassioned plea. She understood, on a fundamental level, that he was coming from a place of deep, protective love. He was terrified for her safety.
But he was entirely, fundamentally wrong about the man standing behind her.
"But Dad, I love him, and—"
Bellatrix paused her sentence mid-breath. She slowly turned her head to look back over her shoulder at Max.
She wanted to see his reaction to her father's harsh, brutal judgment. She fully expected him to be angry, or defensive, or perhaps preparing to grab her hand and forcibly drag her away from the rooftop to assert his dominance.
But Max wasn't angry.
Max was standing there quietly, his arms resting casually at his sides. He was looking at her with an incredibly warm, deeply affectionate, and heartbreakingly gentle smile. His amber eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were completely devoid of the killer's coldness. They were filled only with absolute trust, profound understanding, and a selfless devotion that made her breath hitch.
Max didn't speak out loud to interrupt the family moment. He simply nodded his head slowly, moving his lips to mouth the words silently so only she could read them in the dim light of the rooftop.
"I respect your choice. If you agree with your father… then I am completely willing to let you go, Bell."
He meant it. She could see it in his eyes. He loved her enough to let her walk away if she truly believed her father was right. He wouldn't use his power or his influence to force her into a life of darkness and danger if she wanted to be safe. He would bear the pain of losing her, just to ensure her happiness.
Bellatrix's breath hitched painfully in her throat. The sheer, overwhelming selflessness of his silent promise struck her straight in the heart, shattering any remaining doubts she held. Her gray eyes watered slightly, a single tear threatening to spill, but she smiled back at him. Her eyes shone with a fierce, unbreakable determination.
She mouthed her reply back to him, her lips forming the words with absolute, unwavering certainty.
"Don't worry. I won't."
Bellatrix turned her head back around to face her father. She stood up straighter, projecting her own authority, and firmly shrugged his large hands off her delicate shoulders.
"Listen to me, Dad," Bellatrix continued, her voice ringing out across the rooftop with a powerful, commanding strength that Otto rarely, if ever, saw in his quiet, nerdy daughter. "He is the only man in my entire life who has ever approached me without any ulterior motives! He didn't care about my money, he didn't care about my family name or your corporate empire, and he didn't try to use me for his own selfish reasons or political gain!"
She pointed firmly back at Max, her finger unwavering.
"And Max… Max is the best boyfriend I have ever had! He treats me with absolute respect, he listens to my stupid science rants, and he protects me from the people who judge me! So—"
She took a deep, steadying breath, preparing to sever the chains of her childhood and deliver her final, uncompromising ultimatum.
"—If you refuse to accept our relationship right now, if you force me to choose between him and you, then do not ever consider me as your daughter anymore!"
Otto's magenta eyes widened to an impossible degree as the sheer, devastating weight of her words crashed into him like a physical blow. He took a literal, stumbling step backward, his heavy boots scraping against the stone, acting as if he had just been physically struck in the chest.
He repeatedly, frantically inhaled and exhaled, his mind racing as he tried to process the magnitude of her rebellion.
He was an old man. He had spent his entire, long life commanding massive corporate empires and hunting terrifying monsters in the dark. His sweet, brilliant daughter Lauren had never, ever been rebellious. She had spent years quietly studying in her laboratory, always following his strict guidance, always staying far away from the dangerous men and the dark politics of the world.
And now, she was standing here on a rooftop, fearlessly looking him in the eye, threatening to completely and permanently sever her ties with her family, entirely because of one damn man.
Otto dropped his head, staring blankly down at the cold concrete floor. The fight, the anger, and the patriarchal authority drained entirely out of his massive frame, leaving him looking incredibly old and tired. He was a master tactician; he knew exactly when he was utterly defeated. If he pushed her now, if he tried to forbid the relationship, he would lose his most precious daughter forever.
"Fine," Otto whispered to the concrete, his voice broken, raspy, and incredibly tired. He slowly raised his head, looking at her with a mix of sorrow and reluctant acceptance. "I give up. I will officially accept your relationship. But—"
He turned his glowing magenta eyes toward Max. The defeated father vanished for a second, and the protective, lethal Witch Hunter returned in full, terrifying force.
"—I want to talk to him first, Lauren. Alone."
Bellatrix immediately frowned, her own protective instincts flaring up to defend her partner. She stepped slightly in front of Max, placing herself as a physical shield, and grabbed her father's thick arm.
"Dad, no—" Bellatrix started, fully prepared to argue and refuse the demand.
"Don't worry, Lauren," Otto reassured her, his voice softening. He reached out and offered a tired, reassuring pat to her small hand resting on his arm. "It will just be a talk. Strictly man to man. No weapons. No fighting."
Max stepped forward, gently placing his warm hand on Bellatrix's tense shoulder to calm her down. He looked down at her and offered a confident, easy smile that promised he had the situation entirely under control.
"Don't worry, Bell," Max said smoothly, his voice a comforting rumble. "I will just have a quiet, highly respectful talk with my Father-In-Law."
One of Otto's ears visibly perked up as he heard Max drop the arrogant, sarcastic title again. The older man muttered under his breath, shaking his head in deep irritation.
"What a shameless, arrogant brat…"
Bellatrix let out a heavy, deeply reluctant sigh. She looked back and forth between the two dangerous, stubborn men in her life, realizing she couldn't stop them from having this necessary confrontation. They needed to establish their boundaries.
"Fine," Bellatrix conceded, taking a slow step toward the heavy metal door leading back into the building's interior. She stopped halfway, turned around, and pointed a fierce, warning finger directly at her towering father. "But I swear to God, Dad! If you lay a single finger on him, or if you hurt him in any way…"
Otto shook his head side to side, holding his large hands up in a universal placating gesture to show he meant no harm.
"Don't worry, my precious daughter," Otto promised softly.
He took a step forward, leaned down, and pressed a gentle, loving kiss to her forehead.
"I won't hurt him," Otto whispered, his voice tinged with a dark, hidden truth that only he and Max understood. "And besides… I couldn't defeat him even if I tried anyway. Your dad is already far too old to fight a monster like that."
Bellatrix frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to parse the strange statement. She didn't fully understand the hidden, supernatural meaning behind his words regarding 'monsters', but she accepted his promise of peace. She nodded once, turned around, and walked through the rooftop door, the heavy metal clicking shut behind her, leaving the two men entirely alone in the night air.
As soon as the heavy metal door clicked shut, sealing Bellatrix safely inside, the atmosphere on the rooftop instantly plummeted from tense to absolutely freezing. The facade of the polite father and the respectful boyfriend vanished.
Otto turned his broad back on Max, looking out toward the edge of the roof. "Come with me."
Max casually waved his hand toward the reinforced glass railing, his amber eyes tracking every micro-movement of the older man's muscles, analyzing his gait for concealed weapons.
"After you," Max replied politely, maintaining his distance.
***
They walked away from the illuminated elevator banks, moving toward the far, shadowy edge of the sprawling rooftop garden. The city lights of North Carolina twinkled wildly below them, completely indifferent to the heavy, supernatural tension building to a breaking point on the roof.
Otto finally stopped walking. He stood near the reinforced glass railing, resting his hands on the cold metal, staring out at the dark horizon in the distance. He took a deep breath of the city air, then slowly turned around to face Max squarely.
He didn't waste time with pleasantries or small talk. He drove straight to the heart of the matter. He asked the single, most critical question burning a hole in his mind.
"Does my daughter know the truth about you?" Otto demanded, his voice hard, flat, and completely uncompromising.
"About what?" Max asked, playing dumb, keeping his face an unreadable, flawless mask of mild confusion.
"About you being a goddamn vampire!" Otto shouted angrily, his patience snapping. His magenta eyes glowed faintly in the dark, a residual effect of the magic that had cursed him.
Max's tactical brain processed the situation and all of its branching variables in a microsecond.
If Otto, a former elite Witch Hunter with deep ties to the supernatural underworld, knew he was a vampire, then Otto likely assumed that Bellatrix was still entirely ignorant of the dark world. If Max admitted right now that he had already told her absolutely everything—about the vampires, the witches, and the serial killers—Otto might panic. The patriarch might believe Max was trying to drag her into the underworld, and he might try to forcibly, physically remove her from his life to 'protect' her from the forbidden knowledge.
Max decided to lie outright to protect their newfound peace and to keep Bellatrix's trust a secret between them.
"No," Max replied smoothly, his voice betraying absolutely no hesitation, his heartbeat remaining perfectly steady. "She doesn't know. She thinks I am just a wealthy heir. And I have absolutely no plan to ever tell her the truth about what I truly am."
Max didn't bother to ask Otto how he knew about his vampiric nature. It was a waste of breath. If Otto truly knew Dietrich and Arkeninna Hoffman personally, then the old hunter already knew the legendary, bloody history of the Dracula bloodline that flowed through Max's veins.
"Good," Otto breathed out, a massive, shuddering sigh of relief escaping his broad chest. The rigid tension in his shoulders dropped significantly. He truly, implicitly believed the lie, trusting his hunter's intuition which failed to detect the deception.
Otto then took two large, rapid steps forward, completely closing the distance between them. He reached out with his large, heavily calloused hand and clamped it down incredibly hard onto Max's left shoulder.
He gripped the fine fabric of the tuxedo jacket, his knuckles turning pure white with the force of his grip. He wasn't testing Max's supernatural strength; he was pleading with him as a desperate, terrified human father.
"Promise me," Otto demanded, his voice thick with raw, desperate paternal love, completely stripping away his billionaire persona. "Promise me that you will make my daughter's life happy! Promise me that you will never, ever put her in danger because of your dark world! Keep her away from the blood, the magic, and the shadows! Promise me!"
Max didn't hesitate for a single second. He looked directly into the older man's glowing magenta eyes, meeting his fierce, desperate demand with absolute, unwavering conviction.
"Don't worry. I won't put her in danger," Max swore, his voice carrying the heavy, ancient weight of a true, unbreakable vow. "And I promise you right here, right now, that I will never hurt your daughter. My parents didn't raise me to be an abusive monster or a psychotic killer when it comes to the people I love. They raised me to be a son who will treat his future wife well. I will treat her exactly like a princess in a fairy tale, and I will slaughter anyone who tries to take her from me."
Otto stared deeply into Max's amber eyes, searching for any hint of deception, any trace of the psychotic, unpredictable madness he so vividly remembered from dealing with Dietrich Hoffman decades ago. But he found nothing. He found nothing but pure, unadulterated sincerity and a protective instinct that matched his own.
Otto slowly closed his eyes. He stood there for a long, quiet minute, letting the rushing night wind cool his flushed face and settle his racing heart.
Finally, he opened his eyes again and slowly, reluctantly let go of his iron grip on Max's shoulder.
"Good," Otto whispered, his voice returning to a normal, conversational volume. "At least… at least I have some solid assurance now."
Max calmly reached up with his right hand and casually wiped off the fabric of his shoulder where Otto had gripped it so tightly, smoothing out the expensive material of his tuxedo.
Max then tilted his head, his own tactical curiosity finally getting the better of him now that the peace treaty was signed.
"Hey," Max asked, his tone shifting into a more casual, investigative register. "I want to ask you something about your past. How exactly did you know my parents? I know they operated in the underworld, but they rarely crossed paths with Hunters unless they had to."
Otto let out a dark, bitter chuckle, turning his gaze back out toward the glittering city skyline.
"I knew your parents decades ago, back when I was actively hunting a highly dangerous, rogue pureblood vampire who was terrorizing the East Coast," Otto revealed, the dark memories clearly leaving a bad, metallic taste in his mouth. "During the hunt, my intel was flawed. Things went entirely south. I was completely outmatched and cornered. Both of your parents intervened at the last second and literally saved my ass from getting slaughtered by that monster."
Otto shook his head, a deep scowl forming on his weathered face.
"But even though they saved my life, I absolutely hated their personalities so goddamn much. Your father, Dietrich, was a reckless, arrogant lunatic who treated the hunt like a game, and your mother was an impossible, stubborn woman to deal with. We argued constantly. We parted on terrible, bitter terms."
Otto paused, his harsh expression softening slightly as he looked back at the young man standing before him.
"Though… despite my hatred for their arrogance, I am genuinely sorry for what happened to your parents, kiddo. It was a damn shame they died so unjustly. They were monsters, but they had a code. And it's an even bigger shame that the coward murderer who slaughtered them in their own home was never even caught by the human authorities, or at least punished by the Elder Vampire Council for breaking the treaties."
Max felt a familiar, cold, jagged ache bloom in the center of his chest at the mention of his parents' brutal murder. He kept his face completely blank, forcefully suppressing the dark, suffocating memories of the smiling fifteen-year-old girl covered in their blood.
"Thank you," Max said quietly, accepting the genuine, unexpected condolence from a former enemy of his bloodline.
Max then decided to shift the heavy, depressing topic. He raised his hand and pointed a finger toward Otto's face.
"Anyways, I have another question," Max asked, his tone lightening considerably to clear the air. "How exactly did you get those magenta eyes? I mean, I really wish I had that beautiful, unique, intimidating color for my own eyes instead of this basic amber. Is it an authentic, rare genetic trait in your family, or is it a magical mutation?"
Otto sighed, reaching up to rub his eyelid tiredly, the glow dimming slightly under his fingers.
"It is a real physical trait now, ingrained in my DNA, but I wasn't born having these eyes," Otto explained, confirming Max's suspicion of a supernatural origin. "Originally, I was born with bright, normal sapphire blue eyes. But years ago, during my prime time as a Hunter, I was captured and subjected to a horrific, failed scientific experiment by a rogue coven involving highly unstable magical compounds. The sheer physical trauma and the toxic chemicals affected my optic nerves permanently, mutating them and turning them into these glowing magenta ones."
Max nodded his head slowly, absorbing the dark, painful lore of the older man's past. "I see, I see. A failed magical experiment. That explains the residual aura."
"Now, it's my turn to ask the questions," Otto said, his tone turning sharp, authoritative, and business-like as he crossed his thick arms over his chest.
"How exactly did the two of you get inside this specific event tonight? As I remember the guest list, only actual Billionaires, high-ranking politicians, and the absolute corporate elite of the state are allowed in here. Security is airtight. Even though I know both of your parents left you a massive, bloody fortune in offshore accounts, it's still fundamentally impossible for you—a ghost who isn't even known or registered in the Aristocratic Society—to just casually walk in through the front door and get a premium VIP table."
Max smirked slightly, thoroughly enjoying the rare opportunity to flex his actual, high-society connections to the billionaire.
"My mom's friend invited me," Max replied simply, offering no further elaboration.
Otto narrowed his glowing magenta eyes, his brain working rapidly to connect the dots of the guest list. He let out a sudden, highly annoyed sigh as the realization hit him like a truck.
"Ahh… that woman," Otto groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as a new headache formed.
"You know her too?" Max questioned, raising an eyebrow in genuine surprise.
"Yeah, of course I know her. She is one of my primary, most ruthless business partners in the international chemical manufacturing sector," Otto confirmed, shaking his head at the small, interconnected world they lived in. "Julietta, right?"
Max nodded. "Yeah. That's Julietta. She was my mother's closest, most trusted friend. She's technically my godmother. She basically organized my VIP access tonight, hoping I would finally step out of the shadows and socialize."
"Sigh. This is incredibly troublesome," Otto muttered, pulling back his cuff to check the expensive gold watch gleaming on his wrist.
"I need to head back down to the gala floor immediately," Otto announced, adjusting the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and returning to his billionaire persona. "And both of you need to come back down too, and quickly. If you don't show your face at her table soon, Julietta is going to tear this entire building apart searching for her dead best friend's child. She's fiercely protective of you, and she has the money to ruin this entire charity event if she thinks you were insulted."
Max nodded in complete understanding. He knew exactly how intense, overbearing, and terrifying "Auntie" Julietta could be when she felt she was being ignored or slighted.
Otto didn't say another word. The truce was established. He turned around and walked briskly toward the rooftop entrance, his heavy boots echoing on the stone. He pulled the heavy metal door open and stepped inside, taking the elevator down first, leaving Max completely alone in the cool, rushing night air.
Max stood there for a long moment, letting the profound silence of the sprawling rooftop wash over him. He took a deep, grounding breath of the crisp night breeze, feeling a profound, immense sense of relief that he had successfully navigated the intense interrogation without having to draw blood or reveal his true, magical nature.
He turned around and started walking toward the far side of the rooftop garden, navigating the manicured hedges to find Bellatrix.
He pushed open a set of glass doors leading to a secluded, romantic viewing deck.
There she was.
Bellatrix was standing near the edge of the reinforced glass railing, leaning her elbows against the cool metal. She was looking out at the incredible, sprawling, glittering view of the North Carolina city skyline far below. The night wind was whipping her beautiful golden blonde hair wildly around her face. She was shivering slightly, her arms wrapped around herself, as the elegant, thin fabric of her gothic dress provided little protection against the chill that had set in.
Max didn't say anything to announce his presence.
He quietly reached up and unbuttoned his tailored, dark violet tuxedo coat. He slipped the heavy, warm garment off his broad shoulders. He walked silently up behind her, his footsteps making no sound, and gently draped the heavy fabric over her trembling shoulders.
Bellatrix gasped softly at the sudden, comforting warmth enveloping her. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder with bright, hopeful eyes.
"Ohh, Max! You came back!" Bellatrix said happily, her gray eyes lighting up like stars as she reached up and pulled the wide lapels of his coat tighter around her chest. The heavy fabric smelled exactly like his expensive, musky cologne and the faint, masculine scent of his skin.
Max didn't reply with words. He simply leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He let his hands rest gently, possessively on her waist, and pressed a soft, warm, lingering kiss directly to her temple.
Bellatrix smiled a breathtaking, genuine smile. She closed her eyes and leaned back into his solid chest, completely surrendering to the affectionate touch. She didn't ask what he had talked about with her father. She didn't interrogate him about the secrets discussed in the dark. She trusted him completely. She trusted that if it was important, or if it threatened them, he would tell her.
She turned her attention back to the mesmerizing, endless view of the city lights glittering far below them, perfectly content to just be held.
Max smiled warmly at her peaceful, trusting expression.
He stepped up right beside her, placing his left arm gently around her shoulder, pulling her close and anchoring her against his side. They spent the next several minutes standing there in absolute, comfortable, beautiful silence. They found a rare, profound comfort in simply looking at the chaotic world together from the quiet sanctuary of the highest building in the city, knowing that despite the monsters and the billionaires, they had each other.
After a long, peaceful moment, Max broke the comfortable silence. His voice was a low, soothing rumble in the dark night air.
"Let's go back down, Bell," Max suggested softly, gently rubbing her cold shoulder through the fabric of his coat. "Before your father comes back up here and starts screaming at us again, or before Auntie Julietta calls a SWAT team to find me."
Bellatrix let out a soft, highly amused giggle, nodding her head in agreement. "Mhm. You're definitely right about both of those things."
Max stepped back slightly and offered his right hand to her, palm up, in the exact same chivalrous gesture he had used to claim her in the VIP room.
Bellatrix didn't hesitate for a microsecond. She placed her small, gloved hand firmly into his waiting palm, her fingers intertwining with his perfectly, cementing their bond.
Max pulled her gently toward him. He leaned his head down, his lips brushing right against her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold wind.
"Don't worry about the rest of the gala being boring," Max whispered, his voice dropping into a thrilling, deeply secretive tone that promised adventure. "We will only stay down there for a little while longer to show our faces. Because after that… I have a massive, incredible surprise waiting just for you."
Bellatrix's gray eyes widened with pure, unadulterated excitement and intense curiosity. She turned her head, her flushed face mere inches from his, and offered him a brilliant, breathtaking smile that eclipsed the city lights.
Without a single word, she leaned forward on her tiptoes and pressed a sweet, deeply affectionate kiss directly onto his cheek, completely ready to follow him anywhere.