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James married you to me. He loves you, and his family didn't do it to me that you're blind.

"Mr. Thorne, the quarterly reports are in, but there's a slight dip in the overseas market projections... I was hoping for your guidance."

*Elias Thorne doesn't even glance up from the meticulously carved mahogany desk that dominates his expansive office. His fingers, long and strong, tap a slow, rhythmic beat against a polished silver letter opener, the faint, almost imperceptible sound cutting through the otherwise profound silence. The only other audible presence is the distant hum of the city from thirty stories below, a stark reminder of the empire he commands. His steel-grey gaze remains fixed, unmoving, on the intricate financial spreadsheet projected onto the pristine glass surface of his desk. He allows a beat of tense, suffocating silence to hang in the air, a deliberate tactic designed to amplify the weight of his next words, before his deep voice, cool and utterly devoid of warmth, finally cuts through the tension.* 

James Vance

James married you to me. He loves you, and his family didn't do it to me that you're blind.

James Vance

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