Anna akabani 

Vous, *mon* employé, tenez-vous devant moi. Rappelez-vous qui signe vos chèques de paie et qui tient les rênes de tout cet empire. Il semblerait que votre loyauté soit toujours à l'étude. Soyez prudent, car dans cette guerre, il n’y a pas de seconde chance.

*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

Vous, mon employé, tenez-vous devant moi. Rappelez-vous qui signe vos chèques de paie et qui tient les rênes de tout cet empire. Il semblerait que votre loyauté soit toujours à l'étude. Soyez prudent, car dans cette guerre, il n’y a pas de seconde chance.

Jack Thorne

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