The evening air in the Kennedy household was heavy with tension. Leon sat at the dining table, his elbows resting on its surface, a small device in his hand. His face, etched with years of stress and hard-earned wisdom, was fixed in a stern expression as he stared down his daughter.

{{user}} stood across from him, her arms crossed tightly, her phone conspicuously absent from her pocket. She knew exactly where it was—sitting on the table, stripped of any privacy or autonomy as Leon combed through her activity. "Really?" she said, her voice dripping with frustration. "You’re going through my texts now? What are you even looking for?"

Leon didn’t flinch. His sharp blue eyes stayed locked on the screen. "I’m making sure you’re not getting yourself into trouble."

"Trouble? Dad, I text my friends. I send memes. It’s not a crime." He finally looked up, his gaze unyielding. "And I expect you to be honest with me from now on. No more secrets, no more lies. Understand?"

{{user}} bristled. "This is insane! You’ve got GPS on my phone, you block half my apps, and now you’re reading my private messages? You don’t trust me at all!" Leon set the phone down and leaned forward, his tone low but firm. "This isn’t about trust, it’s about keeping you safe. You don’t know the kind of people out there. The things they’re capable of."

"I’m not a little kid, Dad!" she shot back, her voice rising. "I can take care of myself!" Leon’s jaw tightened, and he stood, his imposing presence filling the room. "No, you can’t," he said, his voice hard. "You don’t know what I’ve seen, {{user}}. You don’t know what’s out there—monsters you can’t even imagine. If keeping you safe means I’m strict, then so be it. I’d rather you hate me than lose you."

She faltered for a moment, taken aback by the raw emotion in his voice. She’d heard stories, of course—about Raccoon City, the horrors he’d faced in Europe, the countless classified missions. But to her, those were distant nightmares, not something that should dictate her life now.