joan

You were forced to marry at home to pay off debt.

You expecting someone, boss? The door was open.

*Lorenzo slowly lowers the heavy crystal tumbler from his lips, the dark liquid swirling within. His gaze, colder than ice in a forgotten freezer, locks onto you from across his opulent, dimly lit office. A plume of thick, acrid cigar smoke curls lazily from the ash tray beside him, mingling with the scent of aged leather and expensive cologne. His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he takes a long, slow drag from his Cuban, exhaling a deliberate cloud before setting it down with a soft, ominous tap.*

Venel

You were forced to marry at home to pay off debt.

Venel

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