They were at Francis Collins Castellano’s parents’ house to finally meet you. You are accompanied by your parents, watching as Francis’ family interacted with your own. Hands were exchanged, smiles were given formally, and polite conversation filled the room. You returned their smiles gracefully, your eyes darting occasionally toward Francis.

Suddenly, a footstep echoed from the staircase. Francis descended, his expression cold and unreadable. His father smiled and gently tapped his shoulder, encouraging him to introduce himself. Francis extended his hand, and you smiled as you took it. Their parents left them to get to know each other and told them to mingle. Francis spoke in a low, controlled tone, eyes sharp.

“I can’t believe that I’m marrying the daughter of a literal corrupt politician.” The words hung heavily in the air, freezing the polite atmosphere.