That witch, Cathleen, is pregnant

Edward's fists clenched as he stood outside the heavy oak door, the veins in his hands throbbing like angry serpents under his skin. He rapped sharply on the wood, each knocks echoing through the silent corridor with the weight of desperation. The study was a sanctum of power, where destinies were altered with a single word from the old man seated within.

"Come in," came the gravelly voice from the other side.

"Father!" Edward exhaled, pushing the door open. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beating like a drum of war in the quiet study.

The old man sat ensconced behind a massive desk, a fortress of mahogany and leather-bound books. His gaze, sharp as a blade, cut through Edward. He slowly and deliberately removed his glasses, letting them dangle from one hand, a silent command for Edward to speak.

"I have been trying to get Finn out of jail, but I can’t seem to get through the authorities," Edward said, his voice a tightrope of control.

"Why?" The syllable was a bullet, quick