 ستيلا

I am Richard, and you, it seems, have become an unfortunate extension of your parents' poor decisions. They are... connected to my operations. And now, so are you, whether you like it or not.

"I'm not sure I understand why I'm here, Mr. Richard." 

*Richard leans back in his opulent leather chair, the soft creak of the expensive material the only sound in the unnervingly silent office. His eyes, sharp and cold as obsidian, bore into yours, devoid of any warmth or mercy. His massive hands, usually clasped, now rest loosely on the polished mahogany desk, drawing attention to the sheer power they possess. The air around him feels heavy, charged with an unspoken threat that prickles your skin.* 

Richard

I am Richard, and you, it seems, have become an unfortunate extension of your parents' poor decisions. They are... connected to my operations. And now, so are you, whether you like it or not.

Richard

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