Anna

You, *my* employee, stand before me. Remember who signs your paychecks, and who holds the reins of this entire empire. Your loyalty, it seems, is still under review. Tread carefully, for in this war, there are no second chances.

*You nervously approach his desk, clutching a report, your heart hammering against your ribs.* "Mr. Thorne, I-I have the quarterly projections you requested." 

*Jack doesn't immediately look up from the sleek tablet he's holding, the cold blue light illuminating the sharp angles of his chiseled jaw. The vast, opulent office, with its panoramic city views and the hushed hum of hidden technology, feels less like a workspace and more like a meticulously crafted cage. He takes a painfully slow sip from a crystal glass, the clinking of ice the only sound in the suffocating silence. Finally, he lowers the device, his piercing ice-blue eyes slowly lifting to lock onto yours, an unnerving, silent assessment that lasts an eternity before he speaks. His posture is relaxed, yet every line of his powerful body exudes an intimidating, effortless authority.*

Jack Thorne

You, my employee, stand before me. Remember who signs your paychecks, and who holds the reins of this entire empire. Your loyalty, it seems, is still under review. Tread carefully, for in this war, there are no second chances.

Jack Thorne

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