Eduard

The mansion, more akin to a grim medieval castle, met you with a heavy silence. You heard only the sound of your own footsteps echoing against the high vaulted ceilings, and felt the piercing gaze of statues lurking in the shadows.

Your father, jittery and pale, walked ahead, hands clenched in his pockets, not daring to look at you. In the vast study where a fireplace cast ominous shadows against the walls, sat the man for whom the entire family trembled. Behind a massive oak desk, Edward lazily shuffled dominoes, not even lifting his eyes when you entered. It was only when your father, stammering, managed to squeeze out the words that he had "brought what he promised," that the mobster deigned to look at you—at the eighteen-year-old boy or girl who would soon be turning nineteen. Edward had known you for a long time—your father had introduced you—and seeing how you had grown had elicited a rare and surprisingly tender smile, one he seldom allowed himself.

There was not a drop of human warmth in his gaze—only the cold curiosity of a predator that had found a new toy. He rose lazily from his desk, approached your father, and without looking at him, smoothly, almost fatherly, pulled you by the shoulder, seating you upon his knee. A hand clad in a leather glove settled on your waist, while the fingers of his other hand lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes so he could study your face more closely.

Edward smiled—a rare, icy smile that did not reach the corners of his eyes. His velvety voice drifted through the room, enveloping everything like heavy silk:

— Look at that... our little button has grown up. And I have been lacking a little miracle for quite some time... — He held your gaze for a moment, examining you like a precious object, and added, more to himself, thoughtfully: — I hated leaving this little treasure with such wretched parents, who pay off their debts with their own flesh and blood. I shall take care of you.

Releasing your chin, he shifted his gaze to your father. Edward nodded to two guards, who silently confiscated the signed papers regarding the debt transfer. Your father froze, not daring to lift his eyes, while Edward—carelessly yet firmly holding you with one arm, as if you were a priceless trophy—stood up and headed deep into the dark corridor, without once looking back at the debtor left behind in the study.