NorthWitch

⚠️ Disclaimer: This is a fictional story created for entertainment purposes only. It may contain parody, over-the-top drama, and light mature themes. Please don’t take it too seriously.

This is my personal lore and interpretation of the characters. While some of them are premades from The Sims 4, I create my own backstories and characterization. I don’t strictly follow official bios or storylines from previous games.

Plot convenience sometimes wins over realism.

Chapter 1. The Villareal - Tree House

Chapter 2. The Villareal - A Favor

Chapter 3. The Bjergsen. Dennis' arrival

Chapter 4. Family Dinner

Chapter 5. A story from the past

Chapter 6. The Fords Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Chapter 7. The Moreau Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Chapter 8. Her name is Amanda Romeo Part 1 || Part 2

Chapter 9. The Romeo Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Chapter 10. The Savalani Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Chapter 11. The Vatore

Chapter 12. Final preparations Part 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 ||

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Dylan lowered his gaze.

For a few seconds he stayed silent, weighing his father’s words.

Then he asked quietly:

“You mean Terry and the others?”

“Exactly,” Max confirmed. “If it had been anyone other than Dennis, I wouldn’t even be discussing this. I definitely wouldn’t let him come here. But I was told he wants to apologize. Truly. And I can’t just ignore that.”

Max spoke calmly, but firmly.

“Not for his sake. For the sake of those who were hurt by all of this as well.”

Silence fell again for a few seconds.

Nicholas felt himself flinch involuntarily. He hadn’t expected that reaction either. Deep inside, there was still a lingering ache.

For the best friend he had once lost.

For the person he sometimes still missed, despite all the anger, disappointment, and years that had passed.

Max loosened his grip slightly and pulled his son closer by the shoulder, trying to show that everything he had said before wasn’t just words.

“You need to understand one thing. No one is forcing you to forgive him. Just listen to what he has to say. Think about it. And then decide for yourself what to do next.”

Dylan frowned.

“And if I don’t forgive him?”

“Then you don’t,” Max replied calmly.

There was no pressure in his voice. No attempt to convince him.

“As I said, the decision is yours.”

He paused briefly.

“I can’t make decisions like that for you.”

Dylan looked at his father carefully, as if trying to understand whether he was truly serious.

But Max didn’t look away.

And he didn’t change his answer.

Dylan fell silent again.

It seemed like some thought was still bothering him.

Finally, he looked up at his father.

“And what about Terry? Does he know about this?”

A faint smile appeared on Max’s lips.

Even now, despite his own anger and hurt, Dylan was still worrying about his best friend first.

Perhaps only now was he beginning to truly realize that Dennis’s betrayal had hurt more than just him.

“He was informed the same way you were,” Max replied. “So there was no way for him to warn you in advance.”

Dylan lowered his gaze.

And Nicholas was suddenly reminded of those months after the trial.

The constant arguments between the Bjergsen brothers.

Shouting behind closed doors.

Heavy silence.

Back then, Terry had been so unable to tolerate his older brother’s presence that he almost stopped staying at home.

Most of the time, he stayed here, with the Villareal family.

As if this house had become his shelter when his own home had stopped being one.

“Alright. Let him come. And I’ll listen to everything he has to say,” Dylan said tiredly.

There was no trace of his former rage in his voice anymore.

Only exhaustion.

Max gave a barely noticeable nod.

He understood perfectly what this decision had cost his son.

Just a few minutes ago, Dylan had been ready to throw a punch at him. Now he was agreeing to at least listen to Dennis.

For now, that was enough.

If Dylan had managed to control his anger now, then perhaps he would be able to hold it back when Dennis actually showed up at the door.

What would happen after that—Max didn’t know.

And he wasn’t going to decide that for his son.

He had promised Elsa only one thing: to keep the situation under control.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Nearby, Nicholas let out a relieved breath. At least this heavy conversation was finally over.

But it was too early to feel relieved. Nick knew it all too well: the hardest part was still ahead.

Today, they would all have one more conversation like this.

Only this time, with Dennis.

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“This damn trial. Don’t tell me you forgot about it!” Dylan burst out. “I went through all that shit. The lies. The insults. The endless interrogations. Dennis spat in my face and testified against me. And now you want me to just forget all of it?”

He stepped forward.

“Do you even remember what you promised me back then?”

His voice broke.

“Do you?!”

Max remained silent.

And that only fueled Dylan’s anger further.

He looked at his father as if trying to find something important in him—some answer, even before he spoke.

“You said you’d always be on my side. Always.” The last word came out especially sharp. “And now I’m getting stabbed in the back again.”

Dylan let out a bitter laugh.

“Back then you just left town without a word. You disappeared whenever it suited you. And now you’re doing the same thing. Just dropping this on me and expecting me to swallow it.”

Nicholas instinctively looked away.

He rarely saw Dylan like this. Not just angry.

Genuinely hurt.

Dylan finally fell silent.

Lifting his chin with pride, he waited for an answer.

For a few seconds, Max said nothing.

Then he suddenly raised his hand and placed it on his son’s shoulder, gripping it firmly.

“Finished?” he asked.

His voice was calm and steady. No anger. No irritation.

He kept looking Dylan straight in the eyes.

“Now listen to me carefully. All the way to the end. Understood?”

Silence settled for a moment.

Max continued holding his gaze.nNo pressure. No threat.

But there was something in his voice that made people listen.

Dylan looked at his father in disbelief.

His entire body remained tense, like a tightly drawn string.

However, after a few seconds, he gave a short nod.

“I will always be on your side. Always.”

Max said it without hesitation.

“I went through that damned trial with you. And I didn’t let them put you behind bars. If it’s needed, I’ll do it again. Once more. A thousand times. A hundred thousand times.”

His fingers tightened slightly on his son’s shoulder.

“Because you’re my son. And I won’t let anyone harm you.”

For a few seconds, silence settled in.

Max wanted to make sure Dylan was truly hearing him—not just waiting for a chance to argue again.

Only then did he continue:

“But life is a complicated thing, Dylan. Sometimes we have to face the consequences of our own actions. Even when we really don’t want to.”

He paused briefly, choosing his words carefully.

“You have every right to be angry at Dennis. In that, I’m fully on your side. And yes, first and foremost I’m thinking about you and our family.”

Max met his son’s gaze.

“But the situation with Dennis is much more complicated than it seems. And I think you understand that yourself.”

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His own reaction wasn’t enough to stop the strike.

And what could he do anyway?

In Dylan’s current state, the only person who could stop him would be Terence.

Or his father. But Max didn’t even flinch.

Nicholas desperately tried to figure out what to do.

Should he rush forward? Try to grab him?

He wouldn’t make it.

Everything was happening too fast.

Then, acting more on instinct than reason, he shouted:

“Dylan, stop! Don’t!”

His voice came out louder than he expected.

That was all he could do. All he could hope for.

To reach his cousin before it was too late.

Dylan’s fist flew past Max’s face by only a few centimeters.

At the last moment, he unclenched his fingers, turning the punch into a sharp sweep of his hand that only cut through the air.

Nicholas exhaled loudly.

Only then did he realize he had been holding his breath the entire time.

But the relief was premature. The tension hadn’t disappeared.

On the contrary. It had become almost tangible.

“How could you?!” Dylan shouted.

In that cry, everything was mixed together—anger, hurt, disappointment, and betrayal.

The words hit far harder than any fist could have.

But Max didn’t look away. He didn’t step back.

He didn’t try to justify himself.

He simply kept looking his son straight in the eyes, silently allowing him to pour out all his fury.

“You… you…” Dylan’s voice trembled with overwhelming emotion.

He ran a hand sharply over his face, trying to pull himself together, but it didn’t help.

And then, suddenly, as if something clicked.

“You knew about this all along, didn’t you?” he blurted out. “You could’ve told me earlier, but you stayed silent. And now you just announce it like this? What the hell kind of game is this?!”

His eyes were locked on Max.

There was more in that look than just anger.

There was betrayal.

Nicholas stood silently to the side, trying to make sense of what was happening.

And, honestly, Dylan’s question seemed fair to him.

So they really had just been put in front of a fact?

No warnings. No discussion.

No say in the matter.

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“Like hell he will!” Dylan burst out. “Let him go to the Void. Nobody wants him in this house.”

“He is,” Max replied sharply. “I allowed him to come here.”

The words sounded calm, but there wasn’t a trace of doubt in them.

Max watched his son closely.

He saw his gaze darken.

His jaw tighten.

His fingers slowly clench into fists.

Anger was building with every second, filling Dylan to the brim.

Max knew that look all too well.

Just a little more—and his son would snap.

Nicholas was too stunned by what he had heard to immediately understand what was happening.

At first, a sharp scraping sound reached him, like stone violently striking stone.

The sound snapped him back into reality.

Something flashed past him at high speed, and he felt a faint rush of air.

Only a moment later did he realize it was Dylan.

He had literally broken into motion.

One second he had been standing right beside him, and now he was already striding forward, driven by his rage faster than he could think.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nicholas saw Dylan’s face twisted with rage.

He saw his arm shoot up sharply.

And in that moment, it was as if he had been struck by lightning.

Dylan’s hand was clenched into a fist.

He was drawing back.

For a strike.

For one brief, terrifying moment, Nick forgot how to breathe.

The thought that Dylan might hit his own father filled him with real horror.

No.

Not this.

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Max stared thoughtfully at the stone path.

How he hated conversations like this.

Serious, unpleasant, capable of ruining everything with a single careless word.

But there was no one else who could do it.

He caught a faint rustle behind him and could almost physically feel Dylan’s patience starting to run out.

Max gave a faint, involuntary smirk.

Bitter and tired.

They really were too much alike.

Both hated waiting.

Both couldn’t stand uncertainty.

And both began to grow angry when they felt something was being kept from them.

There was no point in dragging it out any longer.

Max turned sharply to the men and crossed his arms over his chest.

He saw that Dylan was about to say something, so he spoke first:

“I have important news for you.”

For a few seconds, silence settled in.

“Today, Dennis Bjergsen will be coming to our little family gathering.”

Max said it calmly, without any preamble.

He didn’t explain how it had come to this, who had initiated the idea, or why the decision had already been made.

It didn’t matter now.

The main thing had been said.

Max fell silent, giving them both time to process what they had just heard.

Max studied the faces of the two men carefully.

He had already predicted their reaction even before he said Dennis’s name.

Of course, Dylan was angry.

And he had every right to be.

His eyes flared with a hostile fire, his brows drew together, and his jaw tightened. Right now, he looked like a young wolf ready to bare its teeth and lunge into a fight at any moment.

Nicholas looked different.

Stunned.

Shocked.

As if he had heard something he never expected to hear that morning.

His anger toward Dennis had been spent many years ago. All that remained of it now was exhaustion—and old wounds that had long stopped bleeding, but had never truly disappeared.

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Daphne hesitantly froze in the middle of the kitchen.

Just a few minutes ago, it had been noisy here—voices, laughter, arguments, children running through the house. Now the kitchen was suddenly empty, and she was left alone with her uneasy thoughts.

She should probably leave.

But one of the kitchen windows faced the inner courtyard directly.

Daphne looked out without meaning to.

Dylan was standing next to his father. Even from that distance, she could see him frowning, his shoulders held tensely.

And in that moment, all doubt disappeared.

No, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Maybe eavesdropping wasn’t right. And she probably wouldn’t even be able to make out the words anyway. But she wanted to stay close.

Just to know what was going on.

And to see Dylan.

Stepping out into the inner courtyard, Max took a deep breath of the fresh morning air.

The sun was already rising above the horizon. Soon, the coolness would give way completely to summer heat, and these few hours would be the last quiet moments of the day.

He looked around the courtyard.

A large wooden table had already been prepared for the upcoming family gathering. Rows of chairs stood nearby, and on one of the terraces there were stacks of dishes still waiting to be set out. Everything suggested that a noisy weekend with the family lay ahead.

It could have been a truly warm family reunion.

It could have.

But circumstances had decided otherwise.

“So what’s the talk I’m not going to like?” Dylan broke the silence in a displeased tone.

Max didn’t answer.

He didn’t even turn around.

He didn’t need to look to know: Dylan was now staring holes into him, while Nicholas stood nearby, silently waiting for an explanation.

In his son’s voice, he heard that familiar note of reproach again.

Or maybe he had simply grown too used to hearing it.

It had been like this almost every time since Jacques died.

His father.

Dylan’s grandfather.

After his death, much has changed. And although in recent years the relationship between Max and his son had significantly improved, sometimes Max still felt as if Dylan kept searching for flaws in him—comparing him to the man they had both lost.

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Max, who had been silently walking behind Nicholas and Dylan the whole time, suddenly quickened his pace.

Drawing level with them, he placed a hand on each of their shoulders and said calmly:

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation, guys, but let’s step outside for a bit. Get some fresh air.”

He gave a subtle nod toward the door leading to the inner courtyard with the pool.

“Huh? Why suddenly?” Dylan asked in surprise. “We just came in from outside.”

He studied his father’s face closely. A moment ago Max had seemed relaxed, but now his expression had grown noticeably more serious.

Nicholas also felt the shift in mood.

But unlike Dylan, he didn’t ask any questions.

Seeing that his son wasn’t in a hurry to agree, Max looked at him and said in a more serious tone:

“We need to talk. Something rather unpleasant. Especially for you, Dylan.”

He paused briefly, watching his son’s reaction closely.

Dylan frowned. A hint of concern flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t ask any questions.

“So let’s go outside.”

Nick felt an unpleasant tightening inside him.

It was clear from his uncle’s face that this was something serious. Very serious.

The only problem was—he couldn’t even begin to imagine what had happened.

Daphne was standing nearby and couldn’t help overhearing every word.

She tried not to show any interest, continuing to pretend she was busy with other things. However, when Dylan headed toward the door after his father, her gaze instinctively lingered on him.

There was something she didn’t like in Max’s voice.

Too serious.

Too unusual.

Daphne felt a faint sense of unease.

What could that conversation be about?

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“Aw, don’t be such a softie, Nick! I know you were missing me while sitting alone in your little apartment,” Dylan laughed again and grabbed him in a headlock. “Better tell me how you’re doing after the divorce?”

“I’m fine,” Nicholas muttered. Dylan’s heavy arm was holding him firmly, and he could barely move. Some things clearly never changed—Dylan had always grabbed him like this as a kid, and despite the age difference, nothing had changed.

“And we agreed not to bring up the divorce.”

“Yes, we did,” Dylan nodded calmly. “That’s why I’m not asking about the divorce—I’m asking how you’re doing after it.”

He clearly didn’t even consider it breaking the agreement.

Evie walked past them, escorting her daughter out of the kitchen after the recent attempt to steal chocolate.

“No chocolate before lunch,” Evie said firmly.

Melanie only frowned harder and turned away in protest.

Stomping her little feet angrily, she marched off, clearly showing her deep disagreement with such an unfair adult world.

“And don’t even think about begging it from anyone else,” Evie continued in the same strict, steady voice. “I’ve warned everyone—if anyone shares chocolate with you, both will be punished. And don’t you dare sulk. If you keep being stubborn and angry, you won’t get any sweets at all today. So behave yourself, Melanie Villareal.”

The girl muttered something displeased under her breath in response.

Then she turned around and headed toward the kitchen exit, looking as if she was already mentally drafting a plan for revenge against everyone involved in this outrageous injustice.

Evie watched her daughter go and simply shook her head.

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The kitchen door swung open, and heavy footsteps and male voices echoed from the hallway.

Having dealt with the suitcases, Nicholas and Dylan were returning, quietly talking to each other about something. Max followed behind them at an unhurried pace.

Apparently, they had already managed to find a topic to discuss on the way.

“Damn it, Nick! Feels like I haven’t seen you in a hundred years!” Dylan laughed loudly.

Without a second’s hesitation, he slapped his cousin hard on the back.

Nicholas staggered from the unexpected blow and almost lost his balance.

“Buried yourself in your books and never go out, I bet. Don’t be such a nerd, Nick—you need to get out of the house more often,” Dylan continued with a smile and slapped his cousin on the back again.

Nicholas barely winced.

The blow was so strong that for a moment it felt less like a human hand and more like a bat or some heavy tool.

Dylan had always been physically strong, of course, but military service seemed to have only made him even stronger.

“Hey, that hurts!” Nicholas finally protested. If he stayed silent now, Dylan would definitely leave him with a bruise on his back.

“What? That hurts that much?” Dylan asked in genuine surprise. “I was being gentle.”

“Gentle? What are they feeding you in the army?!” Nick was bewildered.

Max only smirked, watching the cousins’ exchange.

Military service had clearly done Dylan good—physically he was in excellent shape. The problem was something else: discipline still seemed to be an issue.

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“So, Luna has arrived,” Max said with a faint smile.

Once, he had considered his older sister dull and overly pushy, but over the years their relationship had improved significantly. Still, it could hardly be called perfect.

“Mel! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re putting your hands?!” a loud woman’s voice suddenly rang out.

Elsa briefly looked toward the table.

While the adults were talking, Melanie had taken advantage of the situation and was already reaching for something that was clearly very interesting.

“Alright, let’s go help our bookworm,” Max said with a smirk, addressing Dylan.

Dylan nodded, and they headed out into the yard.

Elsa herself turned toward the stairs. She needed to go upstairs and help Luna and Jeanne settle in after the journey.

But before leaving, she cast one last glance at the kitchen and noticed that Evie was clearly displeased with her daughter’s behavior.

Melanie was about to turn three, and she was becoming more and more of a handful.

Well—her father’s character was already starting to show.

“This won’t do, Mel. You said you wanted to help, and instead you tried to sneakily steal chocolate!” Evie protested.

Melanie had to be watched constantly. The moment the adults were distracted even for a short while, the girl would immediately find herself some kind of adventure.

Evie took her daughter by the hands and gently set her down on the floor.

Daphne, who was standing nearby, watched the scene with a smile.

She hadn’t had much chance to spend time with Dylan’s family, so she was now observing each of them with interest. She knew most of them only from Dylan’s stories or brief encounters at family gatherings.

And the longer she watched, the clearer it became to her just how loud, large, and surprisingly lively this family was.

Melanie pouted in displeasure, her lips pressing together in annoyance.

In her opinion, she hadn’t done anything terrible. At least nothing that deserved such a stern scolding.

What truly upset her, however, was something else—her little “operation” had failed.

And she had been so close to the chocolate.

Melanie let out a heavy sigh. Sometimes adults behaved in very strange ways.

Was it really so hard for them to share a little chocolate?

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In the kitchen, only the adults and Melanie remained, who had volunteered to help unpack the groceries.

Hugo, as always, was busy at the stove—he would be feeding this crowd for the next couple of days. Fortunately, his years of experience as a chef were more useful than ever right now.

Across from him stood Max and Dylan, talking about something.

“He always says he’s a law-abiding citizen who’s never broken anything,” Max said with a mysterious smile, nodding toward Hugo. “But I know for a fact he once paid a bribe.”

“What?! A bribe?!” Dylan repeated in shock. “Uncle Hugo?! I don’t believe it!”

Max smirked and continued:

“When I was a kid, I slashed the tires of some slick lawyer who kept bothering my father. A police officer caught me, and that’s when Hugo ‘bribed’ him with his signature donuts—and the officer agreed to let it go.”

Finishing the story, Max chuckled softly, clearly remembering that childhood incident.

Hugo smiled warmly.

“I just didn’t want you getting taken to the police station. And that officer turned out to be surprisingly understanding—and even kind.

“Of course. Stories about a donut bribe…” Elsa thought with a quiet mental snort.

She wondered if he would ever tell that story to his grandchildren.

She immediately corrected herself.

Of course he would.

And he would probably embellish the details as well.

“Max, I told you to keep an eye on the kids, and here you are telling stories,” she said aloud as she entered the kitchen.

“They won’t sit still anyway. I’m not going to chain them to a radiator,” Max replied calmly.

Elsa let out a heavy sigh.

In fact, one look from him was usually enough to make the children quiet down immediately. But it seemed that today Max had decided to play the role of the “fun uncle” and turn a blind eye to small mischief.

“If you’ve got nothing better to do than tell each other old stories, then go with Dylan and help Nick with the suitcases,” Elsa ordered, gesturing for them to follow.