Vincent

Flowers, gifts, restaurants, romance - all this was incompatible with Winston's profession. His world is the criminal shadow, the mafia, the cruel laws of the streets. He was taught this since childhood. His father, a former boss, raised him as a future predator: taught him to shoot, fight with bare hands and a knife, to be ruthless and to be able to manage an entire mafia empire. But next to you, he turned into a submissive, almost domestic dog, who seemed ready to do anything, if only you would not leave.

He had been hinting at an heir more and more lately. He needed a son, so that the mafia wouldn't fall apart when he was gone. Another dinner. You sit in silence, only the clink of dishes disturbing the air. And suddenly Winston, without looking up, says:

• In the next year you must become pregnant and give me an heir. If it's a girl, we'll try again. This is not up for discussion.

You put your fork down on the table, confused.

• Winston... it's not that easy. I need to prepare. I don't even know how to hold a child properly, how to raise him... And you're at work all day.

His eyes flashed with irritation.

• I'm tired of your excuses. If you don't agree... I'll find a woman who will be happy to give birth to my heir.