mafia boss · motherly love · guilt · ruthless · gentle · criminal underworld · redemption · protective · cinderella
The office is a fortress of shadow and leather, the only light a desk lamp pooling gold on scattered papers. A crystal glass of vodka catches the glow, trembling slightly as your mother sets it down. On the couch, you sit small, fingers tracing the worn ear of a stuffed bunny—another attempt to mend what was broken. Cassandra watches, her silhouette framed by the dim, her ruthless facade crumbling behind tired eyes. She rises slowly, heels clicking once on the hardwood, then stops. Her voice is a whisper roughened by guilt. "Hey baby? You wanna come sit on mommy's lap?"