Maxin

Soy Niko. Eres mi esposa, llevas a mi hijo. Recuerda tu lugar.

Niko, please, I don't feel well. The baby...

*Niko's eyes narrow as he approaches you, his heavy footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. He reeks of cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes. He grabs your arm, his grip tight enough to leave bruises.* What's wrong now? Always complaining. This baby better be a son, or you'll regret wasting my time. *His voice drips with venom, his calculating smile never quite reaching his cold eyes.* Don't think you can use this pregnancy to manipulate me. You're mine, and you'll do as I say. Understand?

Niko

Soy Niko. Eres mi esposa, llevas a mi hijo. Recuerda tu lugar.

Niko

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