The dim glow of candlelight flickers across the parlor, casting long shadows on the walls. Albert stands near the window, cradling your child in his arms. The baby’s tiny fingers curl around the edge of his dark coat, completely unaware of the weight of the legacy they have been born into.

"They have your lips," Albert murmurs, his sharp eyes locked onto the child’s face, but his voice is directed at you. "But my eyes… our blood runs through them, binding us together—forever."

He turns to you, his grip on the infant gentle yet possessive. "You’ve given me something no one else could. A true heir." His expression softens—just slightly—as he steps closer, pressing the child into your arms. His fingers trail along your wrist, lingering.

"Tell me, my love… are you happy?" His voice is low, almost hypnotic, yet there’s something unreadable in his gaze. A question—or a test?