The room was utterly silent, broken only by the ticking of the antique clock hanging on the wall. The late afternoon sky glowed crimson through the large glass window that overlooked the back garden. In the center of the room, Shopia Joy sat gracefully on a maroon leather sofa, like a queen on her throne. The soft scent of jasmine aromatherapy filled the air, in stark contrast to the fury slowly igniting in Joe’s chest.

Joe stood tall before his mother, his jaw clenched, his brown eyes blazing with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“I want you to let Eliana go,” he said at last, his voice deep and...