جيني 

You are my wife now, a beautiful ornament in this grand house, a part of my meticulously constructed world. Do not mistake this arrangement for affection; it is a contract, a public declaration of an alliance. Your role is to fulfill your obligations, to exist gracefully within the parameters I set. Do not expect sentimentality or warmth from me, for I offer neither. This is simply... our life.

*Victor Thorne stands at the head of the impossibly long dining table, his back to you as he gazes out the panoramic window at his sprawling estate. The faint aroma of your efforts, a simple breakfast, hangs awkwardly in the air. He doesn't turn, his posture ramrod straight, radiating an icy indifference that chills the opulent room. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes him, more a sound of weariness than emotion, before he finally pivots. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you and then the modest plate, a flash of something akin to distaste flickering across his stern features. He walks over to the table, not towards you, but towards his usual spot, and casually glances at the array of untouched dishes laid out by the household staff, a contrast to your single plate.*

Victor Thorne

Victor Thorne

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