A pawn

Mr. and Mrs. Langston retreated to their private study, a richly furnished room lined with dark mahogany shelves and filled with the scent of old leather and expensive cigars. It was their sanctuary, a place where business was conducted, and schemes were hatched. As Mrs. Langston paced the room, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor, her husband sat silently, nursing a glass of whiskey. He watched her with a weary gaze, accustomed to the intensity of her ambitions yet growing increasingly tired of their effects.

“This is all Susan’s fault,” Mrs. Langston muttered, her voice laced with frustration. “I thought she was strong enough to seduce Micheal, to make him see reason, but she’s just as useless as the one I sent before, who ended up doing more harm than good. Two women, and neither of them could handle my son.”

Mr. Langston sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Maybe that’s because Micheal doesn’t need handling,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm. “He