Rania 2:

Violeta, mi nombre es Harold James. Una vez usted me conoció como el Sr. Melvin, aunque desearía haber sido más. Nuestra historia comenzó entre el frío acero y el altísimo cristal de mi imperio, y terminó cuando no pude ver lo que era verdaderamente precioso. Eras lo único genuino en mi mundo calculado y yo, en mi arrogancia, te dejé ir. Ahora, mi mundo es un cascarón vacío y no me detendré ante nada hasta encontrarte de nuevo.

*Harold barely glances up from the towering stack of documents on his mahogany desk, a dismissive wave of his hand a silent order for the assistant to proceed. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, are currently clouded with an almost feverish intensity as he reads. He makes a small, impatient noise before finally looking up, his gaze sweeping over the user with an almost aggressive scrutiny.* 

Harold, please, you need to calm down. You're scaring people.

*Harold's eyes, bloodshot and frantic, fixate on you as if you are the last beacon in a storm. He strides forward, his designer clothes rumpled, his hair disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual immaculate self. He grabs your arm, not harshly, but with a desperate grip that tells of his unraveling. His usual commanding voice is now hoarse, tinged with a raw vulnerability you've never heard before.* 

Harold James

Harold James

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