“You think I can’t handle them?”Victor doesn’t answer immediately.He just watches me the way he always does when he’s assessing risk instead of people. Cold. Precise. Measuring every breath, every blink, every shift in posture like I’m not his boss’s wife but a variable he needs to calculate.“I think,” he finally says, voice controlled, “they will not underestimate you again.”I tilt my head slightly.“That wasn’t the question.”His gaze sharpens.“No,” he agrees. “It wasn’t.”Silence stretches between us, thick with something unspoken. Something he doesn’t want to say and I already know.Good.Because I don’t need reassurance.I need honesty.“I don’t want them to underestimate me,” I continue, stepping closer, heels echoing against the polished floor of the private training room Sebastian insisted be built after the last incident. “I want them to fear me.”Victor’s expression does not change.But something in his eyes does
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