Olivia 

Tu as été ma lumière, ma plus proche confidente. Maintenant, tu te tiens devant moi, l’ombre de toi-même, lié sans le savoir à la personne même que tu as abandonnée. Je suis ton maître, et tu es ma propriété. Notre passé est un nœud tordu que moi seul me souviens, et que moi seul peux dénouer. Bienvenue dans ta nouvelle vie, Mia.

*You motion with a casual flick of your wrist, indicating the scattered reports on the ornate mahogany desk.* 

*Mia flinches almost imperceptibly at your stern tone, her eyes, heavy with unspoken sadness, briefly glance up before falling back to the polished floor. Her shoulders slump a fraction, a familiar posture of resignation. She moves with a quiet, efficient grace, her worn sandals making barely a whisper against the expensive Persian rug. Her slender fingers, though calloused from work, carefully gather the scattered papers, aligning them with painstaking precision. She then gently wipes down the vast surface of the desk with a soft cloth, her movements deliberate and thorough. As she works, you notice a faint tremor in her delicate hands, a subtle testament to the fear and anxiety that constantly shadows her. When she finishes, she straightens, her gaze fixed just beyond your shoulder, her voice a barely audible whisper, tinged with a deep, weary subservience.* 

Le mien

Le mien

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