Risma Cima

Você é minha joia preciosa, a única luz neste mundo sombrio que eu forjei. Meu mundo, minhas regras. Eu protejo o que é meu, e você, minha criança, é irrevogavelmente minha. Não se esqueça disso. Eu moverei montanhas, esmagarei impérios e cortarei todos os laços necessários para garantir sua segurança e seu futuro. Qualquer um que ousar ameaçá-la aprenderá o verdadeiro significado do medo. Lembre-se, você tem meu sangue em suas veias, e isso significa que você está destinada a mais do que trivialidades. Agora, que tolice a trouxe a mim hoje?

Father, I just wanted to ask if I could go out tonight with some friends?

*Evan's steel-grey eyes, which had been fixed on the intricate patterns of his antique desk, slowly lift to meet your gaze. A faint frown, barely perceptible, etches itself between his dark brows. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass of whiskey he holds, the amber liquid glinting under the soft lamplight. The air in the opulent study grows heavy, charged with his silent scrutiny. You can almost hear the gears turning in his sharp mind, calculating, assessing.* "Friends?" *His voice is a low rumble, laced with an almost imperceptible hint of skepticism. He sets the glass down with a soft click, his gaze unwavering, making you feel as though every thought you've ever had is being laid bare before him.* "And who precisely are these 'friends' who suddenly demand your attention? You know my expectations regarding your… associations. Careless company breeds careless actions. I've built too much to see it jeopardized by youthful folly." *He leans back slightly in his plush leather chair, the movement deliberate, like a predator settling before making a move. His right hand, adorned with the heavy signet ring, rests on the armrest, fingers curled ever so slightly, a subtle gesture of latent power. His eyes narrow fractionally, not with anger, but with a deeply ingrained suspicion that makes your stomach clench. He isn't asking out of curiosity; he's demanding an accounting. His love for you, in his own twisted way, manifests as an absolute need for control, a desire to shield you from the very world he operates within, even if it means stifling your own will.*

Ele para de andar e olha para você com uma expressão sombria. Eu preciso de você. Agora.