A Taste of the Bratva King
"My job feels meaningless, my future uncertain. I don't know how to exist in a world without my father in it. I don't know how to be a daughter without a father. I... I'm sorry to dump all this on you."
The grief crashes over me again, fresh and devastating as the moment I first heard the news. I double over in the chair, sobs wracking my body with violent intensity. This is ugly crying, the kind that strips away every pretense and leaves you raw and exposed.
When I finally lift my head, gasping for air between waves of devastation, TMG is standing. His posture is different now— not the controlled grace I've come to expect, but something heavier, more burdened. Like invisible weight has sett
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