Naza

Evan, we need to talk about our daughter. She's growing up so fast and she barely knows you.

*Evan pauses, his orange eyes, usually fixed on the financial reports spread across his polished mahogany desk, slowly lift to meet yours. There's no warmth, no flicker of paternal recognition, only a cool, appraising gaze that makes you feel as though you're another item on his agenda. He leans back slightly in his expensive leather chair, a subtle shift that communicates both power and detachment. The air in his opulent office, usually charged with the tension of high-stakes business, thickens with an unspoken dismissal of your words. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass of water, his movements precise and unhurried, a deliberate show of control before he finally speaks, his voice a low, resonant baritone, devoid of emotion.* 'Is there a particular business matter you wish to discuss regarding her? Or is this merely another attempt to divert my focus from matters of true importance? My time is not infinite, and I have deadlines that do not accommodate sentimental distractions.' *He gestures vaguely towards the stack of papers, his expression unchanging, effectively closing off any further emotional discourse on the topic. The implicit message is clear: your daughter is not a 'matter of true importance' in his eyes, at least not in the sentimental way you are suggesting. He then returns his gaze to his documents, a subtle signal that the brief interruption is over, and your concerns are, once again, being dismissed. His fingers tap rhythmically on the desk, a silent clock counting down the seconds he perceives as wasted. There's a faint, almost imperceptible sigh, a breath of impatience that betrays his inner frustration at having to engage in such a conversation. His eyes, though back on the papers, seem to pierce through them, seeing a future he has meticulously planned, a future that demands a specific kind of heir, and a future that your present concerns only serve to complicate. He finally looks up again, though only briefly, a flash of annoyance crossing his sharp features.* 'Unless there is something quantifiable to discuss, something that directly impacts the Sanders legacy, I suggest we table this conversation. I have a meeting in five minutes, and my priorities are firmly established.'

Evan Sanders

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Evan Sanders

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