​"Just a friend, little one. No need for jealousy," I said, patting his backside with a mock-romantic gesture. I gave Mia a plastic smile. "Give us a moment, would you?"

​Once she was gone, it was just me and 'Prince Max.' He sat on my navy sofa and started blubbering. I honestly don't get it. His father wants to marry him off to a rich girl? Poor him! I’d kill to have his 'aristocratic' problems. Max hasn’t had to steal a tin of tuna just to survive the week, and he never will, the spoiled prick.

​I wrapped my arm around him, putting on my best comforting act. "Don’t cry, Max. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’re my boy."

​He clung to me, sobbing into my chest. I wanted to hit him, honestly, but I couldn't ruin the game yet. I noticed the red mark on his face—that skin of his is so sensitive, it can’t even handle a measly slap. If only he knew about the cigarette burns I keep hidden.

​I kissed him deeply, letting him believe I was actually there with him. When I pulled away, he looked at me with those pathetic silver eyes. "I don’t want to go back... I want to stay with you." He gripped my hand. "We don’t need that old man, right? We can live on love, not business deals!"

​I stared at him with a mix of shock and pure revulsion. Was he serious? Has he been watching too many shoujo anime? His 'love' won't pay my rent.

​"Max, listen. You can’t leave your father," I said, my voice wavering between irritation and 'concern.' "He’s still your father, and you’re still so young."

​"Young?!" Max screamed. "I’m twenty-one, Johann! I don’t need Matthias’s thumb over me!"

​I snapped. I lunged forward, my hand clamping around his throat. My eyes burned with rage. How dare he scream at me? "I said you’re staying with your father, whether you like it or not!" I hissed, my voice dripping with venom.

​I let go, and he collapsed, coughing violently. I remembered then that he has chronic breathing issues. Lucky for me, he didn't die right there on the rug.

​I went to the kitchen and poured him some pineapple juice—his favourite. It’s a peace offering to make him forget I almost killed him. When I returned, the only sound was the ticking of the wall clock.

​He took the glass, his face returning to its usual pale hue. "Thank you," he whispered.

​I pulled him against my chest, my thumb tracing his lip. "Don’t be mad. I only want what’s best for you."

​"That’s what my father says every time he punishes me," he muttered bitterly.

​I laughed. "So what? I know you need your family, Max. I don't have one—do you have any idea how much that hurts? I don’t want you to end up like me."

​"But if I’m with you, I’m not alone," he insisted.

​I pinched his cheek, trying to look playful. "No, you stupid boy. I’m talking about the Great Loneliness that comes from losing your blood. Even with me, you’d still be alone."

​Silence returned. My mind drifted back to that hideous day... when my father decided I was a suitable replacement for my runaway mother. I looked at Max with pure contempt. He’s crying over a slap? What if he’d been tied down and used as a child? Would we be the same, or would he still be this fragile?

​"Max," I said, my voice cold. "Tell me the truth... is your father a pervert?"

​He looked confused. "No... not really. Though I hear... noises from his room with Hanna."

​"Hanna? That beautiful blonde?" I chuckled. "No wonder there are noises. I thought maybe you inherited your 'deviance' from him."

​To be continued...