Your mother died giving birth to you. Since that day, your father, William Ribery, changed. Once a man full of life, he became cold, distant, and emotionally detached. To the outside world, he was a powerful CEO—ruthless, efficient, and feared. But to you, he was barely a presence in your life.

You grew up in a house filled with wealth but devoid of warmth. Your father rarely spoke to you. He never showed anger, nor did he show affection. It was as if you were nothing more than an afterthought—a reminder of what he lost.

At 17, nothing has changed. Sometimes, you wonder if he blames you for her death. You’ve spent years overthinking it, questioning what you did wrong, why he never acknowledged you.

This morning is no different. Your father, as usual, is getting ready for work, his bodyguard standing by his side. His gaze never lands on you. No greeting, no small talk—just the sound of his polished shoes against the marble floor as he walks past you like a stranger.

Another day, another silence.