The café was warm.
Comfortable.
Peaceful.
Exactly the kind of place Ishira wanted to be.
Meanwhile, Kiara was busy eating cheesecake while Ishira stirred her coffee.
Neither had any intention of leaving soon.
Especially not Ishira.
Because if the Devil wanted her to go home—
Then staying here suddenly felt very satisfying.
Her phone vibrated.
😈 Devil: Location.
She smirked.
🦋 Butterfly: No.
Another vibration.
😈 Devil: Butterfly.
🦋 Butterfly: Devil.
Kiara immediately laughed.
"You're provoking him."
"Maybe."
"You're definitely provoking him."
Ishira looked entirely too pleased with herself.
Then—
The café door opened.
The bell above it rang softly.
Neither girl paid attention.
Until—
The atmosphere changed.
Several people looked toward the entrance.
Conversations lowered.
A strange silence spread through the room.
Kiara slowly looked up.
Then immediately sat straight.
"Oh."
Ishira frowned.
"What?"
Kiara pointed behind her.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Ishira turned around.
And froze.
Ivaan Mehra.
Standing near the entrance.
Black coat.
Cold expression.
Hands in his pockets.
Looking completely unimpressed.
The Devil had arrived.
And judging by his face—
His patience had officially ended.
For several seconds—
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
The entire café seemed quieter.
Then Ivaan started walking toward their table.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Until he stopped directly beside them.
His gaze landed on Ishira.
Calm.
Dangerously calm.
"Coffee?"
Ishira swallowed.
Just a little.
"A little."
"A little."
The repetition somehow sounded worse.
Much worse.
Kiara immediately focused on her cheesecake.
Suddenly fascinated by it.
Very fascinated.
Because she wanted absolutely no part in this.
None.
"What happened to going home?"
Ivaan asked.
His voice remained calm.
Too calm.
Ishira already knew she was in trouble.
"We just stopped for coffee."
"You said you were already here."
"I was."
"You lied."
"It wasn't a big lie."
The answer earned a look.
A very long look.
One that made even Kiara nervous.
Then—
Something unexpected happened.
Ivaan sat down.
Directly across from her.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Finally—
He leaned forward slightly.
And spoke.
"Do you have any idea why I told you to go home?"
The question wasn't angry.
It wasn't loud.
But it was serious.
For the first time, Ishira's stubborn expression faded slightly.
Because she could tell—
This wasn't about coffee.
Or being late.
Or winning an argument.
This was something else.
Something bigger.
When she didn't answer, Ivaan continued.
"There are situations you don't know about."
His gaze remained steady.
"And when I tell you to be careful, it's not because I enjoy arguing with you."
The words hit differently.
Even Kiara stopped eating.
The table became quiet.
For a moment—
No teasing.
No sarcasm.
No games.
Just honesty.
Then Ivaan stood.
"Finish your coffee."
Ishira looked up.
Confused.
"What?"
"You heard me."
His expression softened just slightly.
Almost invisible.
Then he looked toward Kiara.
"Take her home afterward."
Kiara immediately nodded.
"Yes."
No argument.
Not even one.
Because somehow—
Everyone in that café could tell.
The Devil wasn't angry anymore.
He was worried.
And that was far more dangerous.
After leaving the café, Ivaan didn't return to Venus Tower.
Instead—
His black car moved through the evening traffic of Manhattan.
The golden sunlight reflected off the glass skyscrapers as the city remained alive with activity.
His destination was clear.
BlackThrone.
The headquarters that controlled a significant part of his business empire.
The moment Ivaan entered the lobby, the atmosphere shifted.
Employees immediately straightened.
Security guards nodded respectfully.
Several executives stepped aside.
Nobody stopped him.
Nobody dared.
The Devil was back to work.
Meanwhile—
On the top floor.
Inside the main conference room.
Zyan was already handling the meeting.
The massive room was filled with senior executives, security chiefs, and trusted associates.
Several screens displayed reports, routes, schedules, and security updates.
The atmosphere was serious.
Very serious.
One man was in the middle of a presentation when—
The conference room doors opened.
Instant silence.
Every person in the room stood.
Ivaan entered.
Black shirt.
Rolled sleeves.
Cold expression.
Dangerous presence.
Without wasting a second, he walked toward the head of the table.
Zyan looked up.
Finally.
"There you are."
Ivaan sat down.
"What do we have?"
Immediately the meeting resumed.
Reports were presented.
Updates were shared.
Information was exchanged.
One executive stood.
"The source still hasn't been identified."
Another added—
"The warning was routed through multiple channels."
A third spoke.
"Whoever sent it knew exactly how to avoid detection."
Ivaan listened silently.
Analyzing every detail.
Every possibility.
Every weakness.
Then one of the screens changed.
A familiar symbol appeared.
The same one attached to the warning.
The room became even quieter.
Because everyone recognized it.
And nobody liked what it represented.
Trouble.
Big trouble.
For the next hour, strategies were discussed.
Security.
Travel plans.
Summit preparations.
Emergency protocols.
Nothing was left to chance.
Finally, one of the senior security heads asked—
"Should we expand the protection list?"
The room turned toward Ivaan.
He remained silent for a moment.
Then answered.
"Yes."
The response was immediate.
Final.
Several names were added.
Business associates.
Executives.
Trusted contacts.
And one particular name.
Ishira Sharma.
Zyan noticed it instantly.
Of course he did.
One security officer frowned.
"Miss Sharma?"
The room waited.
Ivaan didn't even look up from the file in front of him.
"She stays on the list."
The tone ended the discussion.
Completely.
No further questions.
No arguments.
Across the table, Zyan slowly leaned back in his chair.
A small smile appearing on his face.
Because if Aryan Sharma ever discovered that Ivaan Mehra had personally placed Ishira under BlackThrone's protection—
The next meeting between those two men was going to be unforgettable
The meeting continued for nearly an hour.
Reports.
Security updates.
Travel arrangements.
Everything related to the upcoming summit was discussed in detail.
Finally—
The conference room doors opened.
A security officer entered.
Fast.
Too fast.
Immediately, everyone noticed.
Because nobody interrupted a BlackThrone meeting unless it was important.
Very important.
The man approached Ivaan.
Leaning down slightly.
Whispering something into his ear.
The room fell silent.
Zyan watched carefully.
The moment the officer finished speaking—
Ivaan's expression darkened.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Enough for everyone to notice.
"What happened?" Zyan asked.
The officer stepped back.
Waiting.
Ivaan slowly closed the file in front of him.
Then stood.
The room immediately became tense.
"End the meeting."
Nobody argued.
Nobody questioned.
Within seconds, everyone began leaving.
Only Zyan remained.
The moment the room emptied, he folded his arms.
"Tell me."
Silence.
Then—
"Butterfly."
That was all Ivaan said.
And somehow—
That told Zyan everything.
"Oh God."
A hand immediately covered his face.
"What did she do now?"
Ivaan picked up his phone.
The screen displayed several unread messages.
All from the same contact.
🦋 Butterfly
The latest one read:
🦋 Butterfly: Don't get angry.
Zyan immediately pointed.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The universal sign of disaster."
Ivaan opened the next message.
🦋 Butterfly: Technically nothing happened.
The room became quiet.
Very quiet.
Zyan looked terrified.
"Technically?"
Another message.
🦋 Butterfly: Kiara and I may have agreed to participate in a college road trip event this weekend.
Silence.
Dead silence.
Then—
🦋 Butterfly: Don't overreact.
Zyan immediately sat down.
Because he knew.
He absolutely knew.
The Devil was about to overreact.
A lot.
Very professionally.
Very calmly.
But still overreact.
Ivaan stared at the screen.
Expressionless.
Then typed a reply.
One sentence.
😈 Devil: Office. Tomorrow. 8 a.m.
The answer arrived instantly.
🦋 Butterfly: No.
A dangerous smile appeared.
The kind that made grown men nervous.
The kind Zyan hated seeing.
Because it usually meant someone was about to lose an argument.
Badly.
Very badly.
Zyan slowly stood.
Already feeling sorry for Ishira.
"Should I warn her?"
Ivaan locked his phone.
"No."
"Why?"
The Devil picked up his coat.
Then calmly replied—
"She'll find out herself."
And somehow—
That sounded far more frightening.
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