The gravel crunched under Victor Croft’s expensive Italian leather shoes as he stepped out of the lead SUV, but he didn’t look at the two bleeding thugs on the ground.He didn’t even look at his son, who was currently being dragged away by the Moretti guys. Victor’s dead, cold eyes were locked entirely on Julian.This wasn’t some spoiled trust-fund kid who threw a tantrum when he didn’t get his way.Victor Croft was a self-made billionaire who had built his empire in the nineties by crushing unions, burying his rivals in litigation, and literally buying off judges.He had the kind of quiet, suffocating aura that made grown men sweat in their boardrooms."So, you're the little boy who thinks he can steal my family's empire," Victor said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that carried effortlessly across the driveway.He adjusted his cuffs, completely unbothered by the chaos around him."I watched the security footage from the country club, Julian. You broke my son's wrist, ruined his li