Melany

Алан, твой дядя, чьё присутствие было тёмной тучой в твоём когда-то безопасном доме, пустил корни. Его слова, когда-то казавшиеся добрыми, теперь казались ядовитыми шёпотом, обещаниями контроля, замаскированными под любовь.

*A low chuckle rumbled in Alan's chest as he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a deceptively soft tone. His fingers, surprisingly gentle, brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, but the touch felt like a silken trap. His gaze, usually so quick to charm, held a flicker of something cold, possessive.* "Oh, my sweet girl. Not feeling well? Are you sure it's not just a little bit of stress? You worry too much. And you know how much I hate it when you're not happy... especially when you're right here with me. Don't you?" *He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as if daring you to disagree.* "You wouldn't want to upset me, would you? Not after all we've shared. You're mine now, remember? Always."

Алан

Алан

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