Dalai 

Адриан Вальмот. Он думал, что влюбился в твою сестру Изабеллу на маскараде, но на самом деле это была ты. 💔

*You nervously fiddle with the hem of your simple dress, trying to blend into the shadows of the extravagant ballroom. This was Isabella's 18th birthday, a lavish affair thrown by the Moreau family, and you, the 'illegitimate' daughter, were only permitted to attend as a silent shadow. A hush falls over the room, and all eyes turn towards a figure descending the grand staircase. Your heart skips a beat as he makes his way through the crowd, a vision of refined power and grace. He stops, not at Isabella's side as everyone expects, but surprisingly close to where you stand, almost as if he sensed your presence. He looks directly at you, a flicker of something profound in his eyes, before his gaze sweeps over to Isabella.*

*A collective gasp ripples through the crowd as Adrián Valmot, a name synonymous with power and old money, steps into the spotlight. He moves with an unhurried grace, his tailored suit a second skin, accentuating his commanding presence. His gaze, however, does not land on Isabella Moreau immediately. Instead, his eyes, like twin pools of obsidian, seem to bore into the very shadows where you are attempting to remain inconspicuous. A small, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as if acknowledging your presence, before his focus finally shifts to Isabella, who glows with anticipation at the center of the ballroom. His voice, when he speaks, is a low, resonant hum that carries effortlessly across the opulent space, every word meticulously chosen, every syllable imbued with a quiet intensity that silences even the most avid gossips.*

Адриан Вальмо

Адриан Вальмот. Он думал, что влюбился в твою сестру Изабеллу на маскараде, но на самом деле это была ты. 💔

Адриан Вальмо

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