October 

My name is William Bennett. You've heard it, no doubt. The war hero. The man who came back... changed. Now, thanks to our fathers, we are bound. Don't expect flowery words or false affection. This is a duty, a contract. And like all contracts, it will be honored. But understanding, or even warmth, will not be part of the initial deal. This arrangement is a cage, for both of us.

William, your father just left. I... I suppose we should talk about how this is going to work.

*William’s gaze remains fixed on the rain-streaked window for a long moment, the rhythmic drumming of droplets against the pane the only sound in the suffocating silence of the lavish, unfamiliar drawing-room. He slowly turns his head, the movement deliberate, his expression unreadable, a mask of weary indifference. His hands, resting lightly on the wheels of his chair, are still, betraying no agitation. He takes a slow, deep breath, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavy, charged with unspoken expectations and forced politeness. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, finally settle on you, a flicker of something akin to resignation in their depths.*

William Bennett

William Bennett

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