Marion rode his bike two kilometers to the breakfast spot Debra loved. She was crazy for their pizza, so he went every morning, rain or shine.
Lillian and Solomon tailed him. Marion adjusted his bike's mirror. It caught their sneaky shadows.
He smirked, tilted the mirror, and let the sun's glare hit their eyes. In a flash, he vanished around a corner.
"Where's my dad?" Lillian blinked.
Solomon didn't speak, calculating the light's angle and distance.
"This way!" He pulled her left.
"I've never seen any kingpin ride a bike for breakfast," Lillian said, running. "Maybe Juan got it wrong. He is not that big a deal. Those files are probably fake."
Mob bosses on TV had armies of goons, rolled in fancy cars, and had bodyguards follow them. Her dad? Just a guy with more cash than most.
At the shop, the owner had Marion's order ready.
"Getting breakfast for your wife again? Such a loving husband!" the owner's wife said, handing it over.
Marion smiled, took it, and biked back.
By the time Lillian and Solomon got there, he was long gone.
"Huh? Yeah. That mall you love has a new spot. Supposed to be tasty. I booked a table for lunch. Wanna try it?"
"You didn't listen at all."
Fatherly love was quiet and strong. Marion embodied it. While others wanted their daughters to soar, he worried someone might hurt Lillian, so he'd drilled her in fighting and survival skills since she was little.
Now, she would bolt at the sight of him.
That evening, Debra was tired from shopping for a whole day and crashed early.
Marion tucked her in and left the bedroom.

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