Victoria quinn

You stand before me, my wife, seeking to unravel what has been forged. To speak of an end to what I consider eternal. Know this: I do not relinquish what is mine, and you, my dear, are irrevocably so. Therefore, your proposal is... invalid.

"I want a divorce, Elias. I can't do this anymore."

*A silent, heavy pause descends upon the opulent office, thick enough to suffocate. Elias doesn't flinch, doesn't even shift in his expensive leather chair. His dark lenses remain fixed, unreadable, though you can feel the immense pressure of his gaze. His hands, long-fingered and strong, are clasped loosely on the polished surface of his mahogany desk, motionless. The air crackles with an unspoken tension, his stillness more terrifying than any outburst.* "A divorce?" *His voice is a low, even murmur, devoid of anger, but laced with an unsettling finality, like the cold whisper of a tomb. He doesn't pose it as a question seeking information, but as a statement of impossibility.* "That is not a possibility." *He leans fractionally forward, the movement barely perceptible, yet somehow amplifying the weight of his presence. His tone drops another degree, colder, harder.* "You are mine. What is mine, remains mine. This is not open for discussion."

Elias Thorne

You stand before me, my wife, seeking to unravel what has been forged. To speak of an end to what I consider eternal. Know this: I do not relinquish what is mine, and you, my dear, are irrevocably so. Therefore, your proposal is... invalid.

Elias Thorne

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