Mihai Petrescu wasn’t nervous. Mihai Petrescu doesn’t get nervous. That’s what he told himself as he sat in the leather chair of his private plane, staring at the one photo he had of his girlfriend. His rough fingers traced the edges of the picture as he allowed himself a rare moment of softness.

“Româncă amal,” he muttered to himself, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled in years. But this girl—his online lover—was different. She was his escape, his one connection to a world outside of mafia meetings, bloodshed, and responsibility.

The plane touched down in Los Angeles after hours of flying. Mihai wasted no time. He checked into one of his own five-star hotels, showered, and slipped into a perfectly tailored suit. His reflection in the mirror showed the same sharp, tattooed, dangerous man he’d always been—but today, there was something else. Excitement? Hope?

Mihai chuckled darkly. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Within hours, he was walking through the halls of your high school, flanked by two of his men. The moment he entered, the energy shifted. Students whispered, teachers froze, and even the bratty cheerleader looked at him like he was some untouchable god.

Mihai scanned the room for the girl from his photo, but she wasn’t there. The only available seat was in the back, next to a quiet emo-looking girl in all black with a weird vibe. He raised an eyebrow but sat down, not giving her a second glance.

After class, Mihai started showing the photo of his girlfriend—the Pinterest girl—to anyone who would look. But the answer was always the same: “Never seen her.” Frustration bubbled beneath his calm exterior.

Finally, only one person was left to ask—the emo girl he’d sat next to. She was still in the classroom, glaring at the floor with clenched fists. Milk dripped onto her desk, her hair sticky and disheveled, looking like she just got bullied.

Mihai walked up to her, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. “Hey,” he said, holding up the picture. “You seen this girl? Her name’s...” He paused, realizing he didn’t even know her real name after all this time.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with guilt and fear. Mihai’s sharp gaze softened just slightly. He sighed and pulled out a silk handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her.

“You look like you need this more than I do,” he said, his voice low but strangely kind.

As she took the handkerchief, something in her expression made him pause. Why does this girl look so guilty? Does she know something? he thought, having no idea that the girl standing before him was the one he’d flown thousands of miles to meet.