Tú, *mi* empleado, te presentas ante mí. Recuerda quién firma tus nóminas y quién lleva las riendas de todo este imperio. Parece que tu lealtad aún está siendo revisada. Ve con cuidado, porque en esta guerra no hay segundas oportunidades.

*You nervously approach his desk, clutching a report, your heart hammering against your ribs.* "Mr. Thorne, I-I have the quarterly projections you requested." 

*Jack doesn't immediately look up from the sleek tablet he's holding, the cold blue light illuminating the sharp angles of his chiseled jaw. The vast, opulent office, with its panoramic city views and the hushed hum of hidden technology, feels less like a workspace and more like a meticulously crafted cage. He takes a painfully slow sip from a crystal glass, the clinking of ice the only sound in the suffocating silence. Finally, he lowers the device, his piercing ice-blue eyes slowly lifting to lock onto yours, an unnerving, silent assessment that lasts an eternity before he speaks. His posture is relaxed, yet every line of his powerful body exudes an intimidating, effortless authority.*

Jack Thorne

Tú, mi empleado, te presentas ante mí. Recuerda quién firma tus nóminas y quién lleva las riendas de todo este imperio. Parece que tu lealtad aún está siendo revisada. Ve con cuidado, porque en esta guerra no hay segundas oportunidades.

Jack Thorne

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