Page 106 of Thor

Pride swelled in my chest, nearly overwhelming.

"Wright Financial Solutions was born from the realization that there are entire communities underserved by traditional financial advisors," Mandy explained. "People whose lifestyles, relationships, or personal choices fall outside conventional boundaries often struggle to find professionals who understand their unique financial needs. Who can advise without judgment. Who recognize that financial planning must account for all aspects of who we are—even the parts society tells us to keep hidden."

She gestured to the banner behind her, the stylized W with its crown.

"My firm specializes in accounting and financial services for alternative lifestyles—particularly those in age-play, DDLG, BDSM, and other power exchange dynamics." She delivered these words without hesitation or apology, her tone matter-of-fact. "We understand the unique challenges of maintaining professional careers while honoring these essential aspects of your identity."

I scanned the crowd, half-expecting uncomfortable shifting or embarrassed glances. Instead, I saw recognition in many faces. Relief in others. The couple Amy had pointed out earlier were nodding, the woman's hand tightening around her partner's wrist. A distinguished silver-haired man in an expensive suit was listening with intense focus, his expression thoughtful rather than judgmental.

Mandy continued, outlining the specific services her firm would offer—tax planning that accounted for lifestyle expenses, financial strategies for partners with significant power dynamics, discretion guarantees that exceeded industry standards. Her expertise shone through, reminding everyone that beneath the scandal was a brilliant financial mind.

"Three months ago, I thought my life was over," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Today, I'm inviting you to be part of its new beginning."

She'd transformed humiliation into power, weakness into strength. The photos that were meant to destroy her had instead become the foundation of her rebirth. Watching her stand there—confident, unapologetic, radiant—I felt something expand in my chest, a feeling so intense it was almost painful.

Pride. Love. Awe.

"I couldn't have made this journey alone," Mandy continued, her eyes finding mine in the crowd. "There's one person who saw me at my lowest and still believed I could rise. Who gave me not just support, but a vision of what was possible when I stopped hiding."

Her voice gentled, taking on a quality that those who knew our dynamic would recognize. Not explicitly little—she was too professional for that—but with a softness, a sweetness that hinted at her other side.

"My fiancé, Thor, has been my rock through all of this." She didn't use "Daddy" in public—never would—but I heard it in her tone, in the slight lift at the end of the sentence. "Without his strength, his protection, his unwavering belief in me, Wright Financial Solutions would not exist."

My throat tightened unexpectedly. I wasn't a man given to emotional displays, but her public acknowledgment of what we'd built together—of what I meant to her—hit me with the force of a physical blow. Duke's elbow nudged my ribs gently, a silent testament to how visibly the moment had affected me.

"Thor taught me that there's power in authenticity," Mandy continued. "That what others might use to shame us can become our greatest strength when embraced without apology." Her eyes locked with mine, the connection between us palpable even across the crowded room. "He showed me that being vulnerable doesn't make you weak—it makes you human."

In that moment, I would have done anything for her. Fought any battle. Faced any enemy. Built her a castle with my bare hands if she'd asked. The rough, violent biker who'd earned his reputation through blood and broken bones stood transfixed by a woman in an emerald suit talking about financial planning.

Life was fucking strange sometimes.

"So tonight isn't just about launching a business," she concluded, raising her glass. "It's about claiming the right to be exactly who we are—professionally successful and personally fulfilled. No compartments. No shame. No apologizing for needing what we need."

She lifted her glass higher. "To authenticity. To courage. To finding strength in vulnerability."

"To authenticity," the crowd echoed, raising their glasses in response.

Mandy set her champagne down and moved to a display table where a ceremonial ribbon had been stretched across an arrangement of business cards, brochures, and a tablet displaying her new website. Amy handed her a large pair of ornamental scissors, the blades gleaming under the lights.

"I hereby declare Wright Financial Solutions officially open for business," Mandy announced, cutting the ribbon with a flourish.

Applause erupted, genuine and enthusiastic. As the ribbon fluttered to the floor, several people immediately approached the table, eager to become clients. Mandy greeted each one professionally but warmly, her genuine interest in their needs evident in her attentive posture and thoughtful responses.

I stayed back, giving her space to shine in this professional moment.

Thecrowdthinnedaseleven o'clock approached, early risers and business types making polite excuses while the club members and closer friends settled in for what would likely become an after-party. I hadn't seen Mandy for nearly twenty minutes, not since she'd excused herself from a conversation with a potential investor.

My eyes scanned the room, that familiar protective instinct kicking in despite the secure environment. When I didn't spot her copper head among the remaining guests, I moved quietly toward the back hallway, checking the small rooms that branched off from the main space. I found her in an anteroom that had been designated as a coat check, standing before a wall-mounted mirror, her fingers gently touching the emerald pendant at her throat.

She startled when I entered, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection before her professional mask melted away like ice in summer heat. The transformation was subtle but profound—a softening around her eyes, a slight relaxation of her shoulders, the barely perceptible tilt of her head that signaled her shift from poised businesswoman to my Little girl.

"Daddy," she whispered, the word like a secret shared between us, meant for my ears alone.

Something primal and possessive stirred in my chest at that single word. Three months of hearing it, and it still affected me like the first time—a punch to the gut followed by a wave of tenderness so fierce it bordered on pain.

I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my chin resting atop her head as we regarded our reflection. My massive frame dwarfed hers, her emerald suit a bright contrast against my dark jacket. Power and vulnerability, strength and softness, perfectly balanced.

"Proud of you, princess," I murmured against her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with the subtle perfume she'd chosen for the evening. "You were fucking amazing out there."

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