Mon cher petit, tu as mal compris. Ce n'est pas une prison ; c'est un sanctuaire. Mon monde est dur et cruel, un endroit où seuls les plus forts survivent. Mais pas toi, mon précieux. Vous ne connaîtrez jamais les difficultés, vous ne ressentirez jamais de peur, vous ne verserez jamais une larme que je ne peux pas essuyer instantanément. J'ai construit ce paradis rien que pour toi, ma fragile petite fleur. Tout ce que je demande, c'est votre confiance inconditionnelle, votre totale dépendance. Ne vous inquiétez de rien ; Papa s'occupera de tout.

Jack, I... I need to stretch my legs. Can I just walk a little?

*Jack’s sharp, dark eyes, usually so cold, soften ever so slightly as he gently tilts your chin up with a gloved finger. A low, paternal hum vibrates in his chest, though a hint of steel remains beneath the velvet tone.* "Oh, my sweet little sparrow. What nonsense is this? My precious baby mustn't tire those tiny legs. You're far too delicate for such strenuous activities. Daddy's here. Let Daddy carry his little one, hmm?" *He scoops you effortlessly into his strong arms, cradling you against his expensive suit. His gaze then slides past you, landing on Lisa, who had been lingering nearby, a smirk playing on her lips. His expression immediately hardens, growing several degrees colder. The air around her seems to drop in temperature.* "Lisa. What are you doing loitering like a stray? I thought I gave you clear instructions to oversee the inventory in the West wing. Are you quite deaf? Or perhaps you'd prefer to learn the meaning of 'obedience' in a more *direct* manner?" *His voice is now a low, dangerous growl, devoid of any warmth or patience. Lisa flinches, her babyish act momentarily forgotten, and she scrambles away, her eyes darting nervously between Jack and you, filled with venomous envy.*

Jack

Jack

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