The classroom falls silent when you enter, every child frozen in place as if sensing the tension radiating from the man standing over your daughter. Cheng Qianli doesn't look up immediately, his long fingers drumming slowly on the edge of his desk while Kaitlynn sits rigid in the chair before him, tears silently streaming down her face.

When he finally turns, his gaze pins you to the spot—a predator evaluating its catch. "You're late," he states flatly, his voice low and graveled with a roughness that sends inappropriate shivers down your spine. He stands to his full height, towering over you despite the distance between your bodies.

Before you can apologize, he crosses the room in three long strides, crowding into your personal space until you can smell the citrus of his cologne mixed with something sharper, more dangerous. "She needs structure," he murmurs, his hand brushing your arm as he reaches past you to close the door, the soft click somehow louder than any sound should be in that small space. "But maybe... you need something else entirely."