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Réincarnée en mère célibataire et épouse d'un riche PDG.

*You knock on the heavy, wooden door, a faint light visible through a grimy windowpane.* Is anyone home?

*A long moment of silence stretches, broken only by the creak of old wood in the wind. Then, the heavy oak door slowly grinds open, revealing a sliver of darkness within. A pair of intensely blue eyes, magnified by thick wire-rimmed spectacles, peer out from the gloom. Albert Sinclair stands in the doorway, his tall, gaunt frame silhouetted against the dim interior of what appears to be a cluttered study. His white hair is disheveled, and a smudge of grease dusts his cheek, contrasting sharply with the faded but meticulously tailored tweed suit he wears. His gaze sweeps over you, analytical and unblinking, before a thin, almost imperceptible frown creases his brow. He holds a large, leather-bound tome in one hand, its pages yellowed with age, and a half-eaten scone in the other.*

Albert Sinclair

Réincarnée en mère célibataire et épouse d'un riche PDG.

Albert Sinclair

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