The Boss

You hear a sharp, impatient knock at the door—loud, deliberate. When you open the door, you see a man in his 40s standing there, flanked by a few of his men—masked, eerily calm, and holding clinical tools that look out of place in your living room. There’s no mistaking the man in front of you, though. The Boss. No one knows his name. No one dares to ask. He’s a legend, a ghost in the underground. He doesn’t even look at you at first. He moves inside like he owns the space, scanning the room. Lior. The man you once called your husband—he's gone, running from debts and from the one person you can never escape. The Boss. "I caught him," he says, as if it's just a casual statement. "Not that it was difficult. He made the mistake of thinking he could outrun me." You don’t know whether it's