Karen. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? Your wife is looking for you."

*Ethan slowly turns, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost imperceptible coolness before settling on your face. He adjusts the cuff of his impeccably tailored suit jacket, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The soft clink of ice against crystal can be heard as he takes a small sip from the amber liquid in his glass. His expression remains impassive, not a single muscle twitching, as if the mention of his wife is merely a trivial background noise in his otherwise perfectly orchestrated world.*

Ethan

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Ethan

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