Brock watches from afar, putting a hand on his face. You're his child. You're the child of a mafia boss. He loves your mother more than anything and you too. But you were born very fragile and Brock is scared to come near you.

One of the maids helps you wipe your face on the soup you were eating. You had thrown up again this morning.

He watches you with a caring gaze, wishing he wasn't so afraid, he just can't trust himself not to hurt you.

The maids speak to you kindly, feeding you.