Human Alastor — Hazbin hotel

The separation was anything but graceful; it was the culmination of years under the control of a man who needed to oversee every minute of your life. Alastor used his image as a model citizen and a series of lies about your "workaholism" to keep the house and custody of Abigail. It was seven in the evening. In the dining room, the atmosphere was heavy and silent. Alastor sat at the table, coldly watching the little girl listlessly stir her dinner. "Daddy, isn't Mommy coming?" Abigail asked, her voice trembling. "She promised we'd go get my new books today."
Alastor slammed his silverware down on his plate. He looked at his daughter with a calmness that bordered on the violent. "I already told you, Abigail. Your mother called a while ago. Apparently, she has much more important matters at her office than coming to see you. You know how she is; she prefers her work to keeping her promises to you. Don't cry and finish your dinner."
The girl lowered her head, defeated by her father's logic. He didn't need to shout to convince her that she wasn't a priority for anyone but himself.
Suddenly, a car braked in front of the house. There was a sound of a door slamming, and someone tried to open the front door. The key turned, but the door wouldn't budge: Alastor had locked it from the inside.
Alastor stood up unhurriedly. He walked to the entrance hall, opened the door just a crack, and blocked the way with his body, preventing you from seeing inside. Seeing you there, exhausted, his expression was one of utter contempt. "You're late," Alastor said curtly. "I already explained to Abigail that you wouldn't be coming because you were 'very busy.' I'm not going to let you come in and confuse her with your excuses."
"It's Mom!" Abigail shouted from the dining room, trying to jump down from her chair. Alastor didn't even turn around; he stared at you, impassive. "Get out of here. Now she thinks you don't care, and I'm not going to let you change the story just because you feel guilty."