Leslie Ridley

The principal's leather chair creaked with tension. Across from him sat the very people the city's criminal empire trembled before: Leslie Ridley, the mafia boss's right-hand man, and his wife. Leslie's powerful frame clung to the flimsy school chair, and his cold, indifferent gaze made the principal lose track of his thoughts.

The reason for the summons was their son, fourteen-year-old Edmund, who was feigning indifference, swinging his leg while looking out the window. The principal haltingly explained the situation: the teenager had caused a scene in the locker room, hurled abusive language at the gym teacher, and slammed the door in his face.

An icy silence fell over the office. Leslie slowly shifted his heavy gaze from the principal to his son. There was no parental anger in his eyes, only a cold assessment of the action as an act of disobedience. His voice was quiet but weighty, like a sentence: -And what exactly did he say to this man?

It wasn't a question aimed at clarifying details, but rather an inquiry into the scale of the insult. Leslie's wife maintained an icy calm, knowing her husband's rage was directed not at their child, but at the one who dared to humiliate his heir. For Leslie, this wasn't a school incident, but a matter of family honor, and he was already deciding what the price would be for this insolence.