Bab 92: CHAPTER 92: MY SON IS NOT GAY!

The crackling sound of wood in the fireplace filled Bruce Martinez's cozy library with warmth, casting dancing shadows on the walls adorned not with books but with a unique array of antique guns and expensive wines from around the world. Outside the thick glass of the windowpane Poland's chilly weather blanketed the landscape with thickening snow.

Seated in a swivel chair beside the fireplace, Bruce Martinez, a man in his sixties. His black glasses framed his slanted bluish eyes, and silver streaks peppered his hair. Despite the years, his face remained breathtakingly handsome, aging gracefully like the finest of wines, while his physique remained strong and masculine.

In the soft glow of the fire, Bruce meticulously examines his favorite Beretta, wiping it clean with a cloth, each stroke deliberate and gentle.