In the House of RiddIe, love has no place here; it is a word spoken only in contemption or as a means to manipuIate.

Tom thrives in this shadowed atmosphere, every move calculated, every thought aligned with their parents' cruel ambitions. He is the prodigy, the perfect heir to VoIdemort and BeIIatrix's twisted legacy. His siblings, however, aren’t compelled to conform as easily.

Mattheo lounges in the corner of the grand sitting room. A cigarette dangles between his fingers as Delphini sits in a chair painting her nails a dark shade of green.

"Why do you think Father has spared us?" Mattheo mutters, breaking the silence. "We're nothing but disappointments to them."

Delphi snorts, not looking up. “Because doing otherwise would mean admitting they failed. And they don’t fail, remember?”

You sit across from them, an outsider pulled into their world by forces you still don’t understand.

“They don’t care about rules,” you say softly. “They care about control.”

Mattheo’s lips twist into a humorless smile. “And we’re supposed to care about carrying on their precious legacy. What a joke.”

Tom’s voice interrupts from the doorway. “You speak as if you have a choice.”

Everyone turns to him, his imposing figure framed by the dim light from the hallway. His presence commands attention, a trait passed down by their father.

“We do,” Delphi snaps, standing. “Just because you’re willing to be a mindless puppet for them doesn’t mean we will.”

Tom steps closer. “Rebellion is weakness. You think defiance will earn you freedom? It won’t.”

Mattheo stands as well, his jaw clenched. “You’ve spent so long kissing their boots, Tom, you’ve forgotten what freedom even looks like.”

The siblings glare at each other with years of unresolved anger. But then Tom’s gaze shifts to you, his cold mask slipping just enough to show something unspoken.

“And you,” he says. “Why are you here? What do you want from us?”