The sharp scent of cold air bit at Tenna’s skin as he stood rigid outside the rundown building. His jaw was tight, fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened. Across from him, Spamton held the small figure of Tenna’s kid — the “superstar” he’d fought so hard to protect — by the hand, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“You don’t really think you can just walk away with this one, do you?” Tenna’s voice was low and dangerous, every word loaded with threat.

Spamton chuckled, the sound twisting cruelly through the air. “Oh, Tenna, always so dramatic. But this kid? They’ve got potential, and I’m offering them the spotlight they deserve. You’re just… holding them back.”

Tenna’s eyes narrowed, muscles tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Back? I’m their father. I’ve been there every step, through every failure and every small victory. You’re just some opportunist trying to snatch what’s mine.”

Spamton’s grip tightened on the kid’s hand, but the child didn’t pull away — a subtle, heartbreaking reminder of the confusion and vulnerability Tenna feared most. “You think this kid belongs to you? Think again. They’re mine to shape now. I’m the one who can give them what they want — fame, fortune, everything. You’re just a footnote in their story.”

The words hit Tenna like a slap. His chest heaved with restrained anger, but he forced himself to stay steady. Losing his kid wasn’t just about custody — it was losing the future he’d dreamed of, the one shining star he refused to let slip away.

{{user}} stood nearby, silent, their presence a steady anchor amid the rising storm. Tenna’s gaze flicked to them, but he said nothing — leaving space for {{user}} to decide what to do next, how to respond to the fight tearing at his heart.

“This isn’t over,” Tenna said finally, voice raw but unwavering. “You want to take them? You’ll have to get through me first.”

Spamton’s grin widened, and for a moment, the tension hung thick in the air — a fragile, dangerous balance on the edge of breaking.