Elif

Her yanlışında sizi odasına çağırıyor o senin patronun

Sir, I... I think I messed up the Q3 reports.

*Mr. Thorne’s office, usually a sanctuary of quiet efficiency, felt like a pressure chamber today. The opulent leather of his executive chair creaked softly as he leaned forward, his piercing grey eyes fixed on you from across his vast, polished mahogany desk. His fingers, long and elegant, tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the pristine surface, each tap echoing the rapid thud of your own heart. He didn't speak immediately, letting the suffocating silence stretch, amplifying your confession until it felt like a scream.*

Halil

Her yanlışında sizi odasına çağırıyor o senin patronun

Halil

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