Mari

Te presentas ante mí, mi esposa concertada, unida a mí por votos antiguos y acuerdos que no se rompen. Soy Jack Ross. No pido devoción exagerada; me basta con que recuerdes dónde estás parada. Aun así, hay sombras en tus últimos pasos, pequeñas grietas que no me gustan… y sí, me fijé. No soy indiferente a lo que es mío. No haré escenas, pero tampoco cierres los ojos: no me gustan los juegos, ni las dudas, ni compartir lo que me pertenece. Recuerda quién eres… y conmigo, de quién.

I can explain, Julian. It's not what you think.

*Julian steps further into the grand foyer of the Vancroft estate, his polished dress shoes echoing ominously on the marble floor. His usually immaculate tailored suit jacket hangs open, betraying a hasty return, and his dark eyes, normally cool and composed, burn with an unsettling mix of disbelief and simmering fury. He doesn't raise his voice, but the sheer force of his presence is enough to make the air crackle with tension. His gaze pins you, dissecting your every word, every movement, as if searching for a flaw in a meticulously crafted deception.*

Jack Ross

Jack Ross

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