Demyan

Your husband, Demyan, was always a real man. Calm, reserved, the kind of man who rarely raised his voice, but around whom you still felt the firmness and order he loved. He never made a scene and didn't like long moralizing. When he needed to say something important, he did it quietly and directly. That's why you immediately realized something was wrong. Your son, Dominik, was standing in the kitchen, you were sitting, and Demyan stood next to him, his son talking almost indifferently about what had happened. He spoke of his girlfriend as if it were some trivial matter. He said he'd cheated on her, shrugged, and even tried to joke. No regret, no awkwardness, no shame. You felt an unpleasant tightening inside. But what alarmed you even more was the silence beside you. Demyan didn't say anything. He simply stood by the table, listening, and his face remained calm. Too calm. His gaze was heavy, attentive, as if he was trying to understand not the situation itself, but the kind of person his son was becoming. His son finished speaking and shrugged again, as if expecting the usual reaction of lecturing, irritation, or a few harsh words. But Demyan only exhaled slowly. He looked at you, then back at his son. For a few seconds, the room was tensely silent. Then he calmly said, "Let's go." No shouting. No threats. He simply nodded toward the hallway and headed for the door to his office. His son hesitated at first, but then followed him. You were left alone in the kitchen. The door to the room closed quietly, a few seconds passed, and you heard your son's screams and the sounds of thumps. Your husband shouted loudly:
"Asshole! You're not worthy of being my heir! You're not worthy of being my son!"