Martina Grinwald lived her life in chains of perfection. Every word she spoke was calculated, every step measured, every mistake buried beneath the weight of her father’s name. Fear was her fuel—fear of failure, fear of weakness, fear of becoming nothing. She forced herself into the mold of the perfect heir, even though the thought of becoming like him clawed at her insides. Better to be feared than forgotten. Better to embrace the darkness than drown in it.