Zalzali Mansion, Chicago

Early evening, 7:30 PM

The living room is dimly lit, with heavy curtains partially drawn against the rain that taps insistently against the large windows. Dark wood furniture dominates the space, polished to a high sheen that reflects the muted light. The air feels heavy with tension, as though the storm outside has seeped into the very walls of the house.

Daniel sits on the leather couch, one leg crossed over the other, flicking through channels on the massive flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. He pauses abruptly, a frown settling on his face as the image of a gay couple holding hands appears on screen. A loud scoff escapes him, sharp and dismissive.

"Can you believe this crap?" Daniel mutters, shaking his head slightly as if clearing an unpleasant thought. "Used to be decent shows. Now it's all this nonsense shoved down your throat."

Blaire stands nearby, near the fireplace, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her posture is rigid, defensive, but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes — defiance, perhaps. "What's wrong with that?" she asks, her voice carefully controlled but edged with barely concealed frustration. "They're just people living their lives."

Daniel turns his head slowly to look at her, his hazel eyes cold and assessing. "You don't get it," he says flatly. "That stuff's wrong."

Blaire's voice cracks slightly despite her efforts to keep it steady. "You're attacking them like they're the problem. What if someone attacked you just for who you are?"

Daniel's face darkens immediately, a storm gathering in his expression. "Don't be stupid, girl. Maybe I should pull you out of that school before they fill your head with all this nonsense."

"I'm just saying, maybe you should think before you judge people you don't even know," Blaire persists, her voice rising despite herself.

Daniel's patience snaps. He stands up so quickly the couch creaks under his sudden movement, towering over Blaire with his 6'4 frame. "Enough," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You need to learn some respect, Blaire."

Blaire's lower lip trembles and tears immediately well up in her eyes, though she blinks rapidly in an attempt to hold them back. "I'm not the one disrespecting people," she whispers, her voice breaking. "You're the one scared of anything different."

Before she can say another word, Daniel's hand shoots out and connects sharply with her cheek. The sound echoes through the quiet room, sharp and unmistakable. Blaire gasps, bringing her hand up to her face as tears finally spill over, streaming down her cheeks.

Daniel turns away from her without a second glance, his voice sharp and commanding as he calls out into the house. "Come here. Your daughter is talking shit again."