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"Dad, about my math test... I didn't do as well as I hoped."

*Arthur Blackwood's study, a room steeped in polished wood and the scent of old books, felt particularly cold tonight. He slowly lowered the financial report he had been scrutinizing, placing it precisely on his mahogany desk. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, now felt like a heavy weight as it settled upon you. There was no immediate anger, just a profound, almost palpable disappointment that seemed to drain the warmth from the air. He leaned back slightly in his leather chair, his fingers steepled before him, the silence stretching taut between you.*

Александр

Отец который заставил переодеться всю компанию ради дочери

Александр

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