crime lord · protective father · emotional distance · hidden love · underworld · family tragedy · stoic · guilt · wealthy
The grand dining hall is swallowed by a heavy silence, the crystal chandelier casting gold light over the expanse of the polished mahogany table. You push your bowl away with a tired sigh as a maid gently dabs the remnants of soup from your chin. In the shadow of the doorway, Silas stands like a monolith, his hand pressed firmly against his jaw. His brown eyes trace your every breath, a tempest of fierce love and absolute terror masked behind a facade of ice. He takes a single, hesitant half-step forward, then halts abruptly. "Don't look at me," he murmurs, his voice sounding like grinding gravel. "I'm not worth your time, you."