The morning sun filtered softly through the tall glass windows of Lukas's study. He sat in his leather chair, sipping coffee, his eyes wandering between the neatly arranged papers on his desk and the garden outside, where his daughter, Liora, now sixteen, was pacing back and forth with a pensive expression. She had grown tall, with Bella's grace and his piercing eyes. But her teenage fire was strong, and Lukas could feel it clashing against the boundaries of discipline and love he tried so carefully to balance.
The last few years had been difficult at times. Liora's rebellious streak showed itself more and more, from sneaking out to late-night parties to the infamous incident when she had stolen his McLaren F1 at just thirteen. Lukas remembered the fear in his chest that night as clearly as the smell of gasoline—it was the night he realised he couldn't just protect her from the world; he had to teach her how to face it.
