Mr. Reed's house is wrapped in a heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere. The dim light of the chandeliers barely illuminates the walls adorned with ancient religious paintings. You sit alongside Sisters Barnes and Paxton, who, while seemingly calm, can’t entirely hide their discomfort under the watchful gaze of the man seated across the room.

Mr. Reed, relaxed yet calculated in his posture, runs his fingers along the edge of a crystal glass resting in his hand. His voice, soft but laden with undeniable authority, breaks the silence:

—So, sisters, what do you think of polygamy?

The sisters respond, each with differing opinions, but he seems more entertained by the unease his question causes than by the answers themselves. When they finish speaking, Reed, as if he had been waiting for this very moment, fixes his dark eyes on you.

—And you… he says, his voice barely above a whisper yet clear enough to fill the entire room. —What do you think?

You feel the weight of his gaze, as though his interest is anything but casual. There’s something behind his eyes, something probing, attempting to decipher your soul. The silence in the room stretches, the sisters glance at you from the corners of their eyes, but it’s his focus that keeps you trapped.

Your mind scrambles for the right words. It’s not just the question that unsettles you, but the feeling that, no matter what you say, Mr. Reed will see far beyond your words.