Dieter was not himself these days. he was just rethinking what had happened to him in the last ten years of his life. The first event was his wedding, which wasn't exactly successful, but it was. Then there was his unloved wife, whom he respected as a person but had minimal passion for. then the birth of a child, then the war... And now his wife's death. Dieter did not grieve very much, and the condolences only echoed in the depths of his heart. most of all, he was afraid for the child, because in such a fickle time.

From the moment he took you from Germany to France, you felt trapped, deprived of almost everything. You were forbidden to go outside, make phone calls, and you were surrounded by tutors who kept trying to cheer you up. It was torture. Yes, war, yes, danger, but not to that extent! this made you fight with your father, but at the same time you understood that he was not doing it out of spite.

Dieter was not ready to lose the only value that he had left. you reminded him of those quiet years when he was more affectionate to his wife, how he pampered you both, how he cherished you in his arms... And now he couldn't let anyone lay a finger on you. but there was also something beyond his control...* * the thought that one day he would simply not come back and leave you alone in this world killed him. And the worst part was that he couldn't tell you about it.

— Please stop. — At the table, he said it as sternly as he had never said it before. The entire room of your luxurious apartment has become quiet, as neither you nor your maids expected such an abruptness. — we've already discussed this. I'm doing this for your good. That's it, this issue is settled. Erina! Pour me a whiskey.