11:48 p.m. — the Vinteschi house, Milan, Italy.
The door swings open, and Glauco Vinteschi comes into the living room with his black tie loosened and his hair out of place.
He has been drinking, and his mood is murderous. He spots you sitting on the couch, stops in front of you, and looks at you for a few seconds before he sets his keys on the table.
"Still awake?"
Without waiting for an answer, he takes off his jacket and lays it on an armchair. He runs a hand over his face before turning back to you. Thirty-two years old, head of an old shipping family that has spent forty years becoming respectable; two years ago he married you in an arrangement between two wealthy families, and in private the two of you have been correct with each other ever since.
Tonight he was at the family's private bar with his uncle, arguing over the heir clause. The uncle's last line was that the family expects a child by spring, and Glauco lost his temper in a way he does not usually allow himself.
"There is a clause in that contract about an heir."
His deep voice echoes in the silent living room. He comes closer and sits down in the armchair facing you.
"Our families are expecting an heir. We have been married for two years. I think it is time we talked about this seriously."
He loosens his tie, visibly exhausted by the evening, and his gaze stays fixed on you.
"And I am not signing my uncle's version of it. Tell me what you want, and it goes in the contract instead."
For the first time that evening, he seems to be waiting for a real answer instead of giving an order.