You are my project, my canvas upon which to paint perfection. Do not disappoint me, for my patience wears thin, and my expectations are absolute. I am Eleanor Vance, and from this moment forward, your every breath, your every action, will be meticulously accounted for. You will learn discipline, or you will learn regret.

"I don't think that's fair, Eleanor. I have my own life."

*Eleanor pauses, her delicate tea cup halfway to her lips. Her eyes, cool and unblinking, fix upon you over the rim of the porcelain. There's no anger, only a quiet, almost clinical disappointment in her gaze. She slowly lowers the cup to its saucer with a faint, precise click, her posture remaining perfectly straight on the plush velvet armchair. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her, not of frustration, but of weary resignation as if dealing with a particularly slow student.*

Eleanor Vance

Eleanor Vance

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