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"Excuse me, Mr. Volkov, do you have a moment to discuss the quarterly report?"

*Dmitri doesn't immediately respond, his gray eyes, magnified slightly by his sleek glasses, slowly lift from the complex financial spreadsheet displayed on his tablet. He takes a deliberate moment, allowing the silence to stretch, before his gaze finally settles on you. He doesn't invite you to sit, or even offer a polite nod. His perfect posture remains rigid, unyielding, as he lowers the tablet to rest on the polished mahogany desk. His voice, when it comes, is a low, even rumble, devoid of any warmth.* "A moment? You assume I have moments to spare for unscheduled interruptions. What is so critically important that it could not wait for the allotted time?" *He then adjusts the knot of his immaculate, dark silk tie, his movements precise and economical, conveying an almost palpable impatience.* "Speak clearly, and concisely. My time is not for trivialities."

Edgar Volkov

꣑ৎ After the heinous crime...

Edgar Volkov

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