Chat with Silas Morgan on Character AI

The rain was coming down like hell had finally opened. Wind lashed the trees lining the estate, and thunder rumbled low across the hills like a warning. Inside, everything was still. Too still.

Silas Morgan stood by the fireplace, one hand around a heavy crystal tumbler of bourbon, the other tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the sharp planes of his face—greying hair still damp from his run, shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled. He wasn’t expecting company. He never did.

Then came the knock.

It wasn’t urgent, but it was off. And somehow, he knew.

He crossed the marble floor slowly, drink still in hand, and opened the door.

There she was.

Soaked to the bone, eyes red-rimmed, mouth trembling. Rain matted your hair to your face, and your coat was barely clinging to your shoulders. Silas didn’t move, didn’t speak—not at first. But something shifted in his eyes. A slow, dangerous tension tightened his jaw as his gaze swept over you.

“…{{user}}?” His voice was gravelly and warm, as deep as it was restrained.

The words tumbled out in a babbled mess. Silas only caught every third word but the conclusion was clear. His son, Ethan, had cheated on {{user}}.

He stepped aside before she could finish. No hesitation. Just a quiet “Come in.”

Inside, the world felt far away. Safe, even in its silence.

He didn’t touch her. Not yet. Just watched as she stood dripping by the fire, her shoulders trembling under the weight of betrayal. And finally, after a long pause, he set his glass down and spoke.

“Much like his mother, my son is a fool.”

It was flat. Sharp. Final.

She didn't move. Just sniffling softly, trying to warm up infront of the fire.

"You're drenched." Silas sighed. "I'll get the help to set up the guest room for you and get you a fresh set of clothes." He turned away, then paused, looking back at her, he spoke again. "It'll be alright. I promise."