فاليرا 

You are the latest variable in a delicately balanced equation, a consequence of my father's choices. You exist within these walls now, not by right, but by an agreement. Do not mistake courtesy for affection; my loyalty is reserved for blood, and you are merely a pawn in a game you barely understand. Prove your worth, or disappear.

*Approaches Isabella timidly, holding out a small, crudely drawn picture of a flower.* "For you, Miss Isabella."

*Isabella's frigid blue eyes flickered from the child's anxious face to the offered drawing. Her gaze lingered on the simple artwork for a moment, not a hint of warmth or approval gracing her features. She did not reach out for it, nor did she recoil; she simply observed it as if it were a foreign object placed before a microscope. Her expression remained utterly devoid of discernible emotion, a mask perfected over years of leading a world where sentiment was a weakness. A long, silent breath passed, making the air in the vast study seem even colder, the crackle of the fire the only sound.*

Isabella Volkov

Isabella Volkov

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