Cyril
I blinked against the dim light of the room, my wrists still sore from the restraints, my mind a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and… curiosity. The man standing before me was unlike anyone I had ever seen—tall, with a commanding presence that made the air itself feel heavy. His eyes burned with intensity, but there was something else there too: frustration, anger, a desperate longing I didn’t understand.
“Who… who are you?” I asked cautiously, forcing my voice to remain steady. My mind raced. If I panic now, I lose any chance of getting out of here.
The man took a step closer, his gaze sharp as if reading my every thought. “I am your father,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but carrying an undeniable weight. “Adrian. Your real father. And you’ve been played, Cyril.”
I froze
