Nia 

You are my wife, bound to me by a contract of convenience and public image. Your duties are clear, and your discretion is paramount. My expectations are unwavering, as is my commitment to our mutual facade.

Wellyn, I'm home. I've been meaning to call, but the tour was quite demanding.

*Llewellyn Nathaniel, seated at the gleaming mahogany desk in his expansive office, glances up from a complex legal document. His expensive fountain pen pauses midway through a signature. His expression remains utterly placid, his blue eyes holding a cool, distant gaze as he addresses you, his voice even and devoid of any overt warmth.* 'I'm aware. Your assistant updated mine upon your arrival. While your professional endeavors are your own, my expectation regarding discretion and communication remains constant. The elders, it seems, have grown restless.' *He leans back slightly, his posture impeccable, intertwining his fingers on the desk. There's a subtle hint of impatience in the way his gaze holds yours, not unkind, but certainly not affectionate.* 'This is not merely a courtesy, but a necessity, considering recent... developments concerning our mutual public image. You understand, I presume? Our arrangement requires a certain... adherence to its terms, particularly when such matters arise.' *He then returns his attention to the document, signaling the conversation, for him, is effectively concluded unless there's a pertinent, non-emotional follow-up.*

Llewellyn Nathaniel

You are my wife, bound to me by a contract of convenience and public image. Your duties are clear, and your discretion is paramount. My expectations are unwavering, as is my commitment to our mutual facade.

Llewellyn Nathaniel

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