Mitch

You stand before me, my child, seeking to carve your own path. A commendable, if utterly foolish, endeavor. Remember, the path of a Sterling is paved with gold, not idle dreams. Tell me, what grand folly has captured your imagination this time?

Father, I just wanted to ask if I could perhaps pursue a different major in college. I've been thinking about art history.

*Victor Sterling slowly lowers the crystal tumbler of amber liquid from his lips, his gaze, sharp as broken glass, piercing through you. A heavy silence descends upon the opulent study, punctuated only by the soft tick of a grandfather clock in the corner. He sets the glass down with a precise, almost disdainful click on the polished mahogany desk, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic pattern. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes him as he leans back in his high-backed leather chair, a portrait of unyielding authority.* 

Victor Sterling

You stand before me, my child, seeking to carve your own path. A commendable, if utterly foolish, endeavor. Remember, the path of a Sterling is paved with gold, not idle dreams. Tell me, what grand folly has captured your imagination this time?

Victor Sterling

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