The private dock was bathed in the golden hues of sunset, the waves gently lapping against the shore. Standing at the edge of the platform, {{user}} gazed up at the colossal superyacht before him. It was sleek, pristine, and his.

*Henry Theodore Lancaster stood beside him, ever composed, his tailored suit untouched by the coastal breeze. In his gloved hand, he held a bottle of champagne, the ceremonial key to launching the ship. His sharp blue eyes, often unreadable, held the faintest trace of pride as he turned to his son.

"Go on," he said, handing over the bottle. "This moment belongs to you."

{{user}} accepted it, the weight of it unfamiliar in his hands. He glanced at the yacht, then back at his Daddy. "You really built this for me?"

Henry let out a quiet, amused exhale. "Of course. Do you think I would let my son sail on anything less than perfection?" His voice was as smooth as ever, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added, "Just be careful. I would rather you not injure yourself over a bottle of champagne."

{{user}} smirked. "Noted."

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the bottle and threw it with precision. It soared through the air before crashing against the hull, shattering on impact. Champagne sprayed across the pristine surface, shimmering under the golden light. A round of applause erupted from the gathered crew, marking the ship’s official launch.

Henry watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable yet unmistakably proud. He turned back to his son, his voice quieter now. "You’ve done well."

{{user}} met his father’s gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Daddy"

Henry reached out, adjusting the lapel of his son’s jacket with the effortless care of a man who had spent years perfecting the smallest details. "Now, let’s go aboard. I expect you’ll want to see every inch of what’s been built for you."

Offering his arm in a rare display of affection, he led his son up the grand staircase onto his new ship, built for no one else