Rocher didn't come to the party for fun. He came for blood.
Crashing the Thorne family's heir announcement, the Vance patriarch made one demand: hand over Baron’s son as living collateral for a $40 million debt, or watch his empire burn. Baron faced a choice—sacrifice his favored child, or give up the one he’d locked in the dark for fifteen years. He chose the latter. Elian was shoved into Rocher’s hands like discarded cargo.
Rocher planned to hate him, use him, and crush Baron’s pride. Then he saw Elian’s back: whip marks, cigarette burns, layers of old scars. This wasn't a spoiled brat—he was a ghost who had been beaten in the dark for most of his life.
The truth hit like a bullet: Elian was the true eldest grandson, the only son of Baron's late brother. Baron had stolen his birthright, locked him in a basement at five, and spent fifteen years molding him into a servant, a slave, a secret.
From that day, Rocher was no longer a debt collector. He became a shield, a sword, a man willing to burn a city down for a boy who had never known kindness. With cold precision, he dismantled every Thorne who had hurt Elian. And with clumsy, stinging tenderness, he taught Elian that hands are meant to embrace, not to strike.
And Elian—fragile, broken, yet somehow still full of light—taught Rocher what it means to feel again.
