In the dim light of fatherhood, Bennett found a new reason to hope. The arrival of Olivia and Owen filled his world with an innocent beauty, a joy that cast his shadows aside, if only for a moment. He cherished them, pouring his heart into each laugh and each small hand that clung to his own. He dreamed that perhaps this love—the love of a father—could mend the broken seams in his life.
But Andrea turned their children into tools, as if they were extensions of her own whims. She was the puppeteer, pulling strings that bound Bennett tighter into her web. "They need me more than you," she would say, her voice cloaked in the certainty of her self-righteousness. Any attempt Bennett made to bond with his children was thwarted; she would undermine him, whispering her poison in delicate doses until the children began to echo her disdain.
Bennett's heart ached as he watched Olivia and Owen drift, their innocent faces cast in the shadow of Andrea's manipulation. They were caught in the undertow of her schemes, their childhood marred by the silent war she waged against him. His love was no longer a lifeline, but a chain—binding him to her whims, to her cruelty, to a life he could not escape.