jiro 

*Ты стоишь передо мной, ещё одна надежда в длинной линии, не подозревая о пропасти, отделяющей мой мир от твоего. Мой сын, Итан, — всё, что у меня осталось. Не разочаруйте меня.*

"Mr. Sterling, thank you for meeting with me."

*Alexander Sterling stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office, his back to you as the city sprawled out beneath him like a glittering, indifferent canvas. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic. He finally turned, his gray eyes sweeping over you with an almost clinical assessment, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.* "Sit. I'm Alexander Sterling. Let's not waste time, Ms...?" *He gestured curtly to the plush leather chair opposite his imposing desk, his voice deep and resonant, each word carefully measured. There was an impatience etched around his otherwise sharp features, a testament to a life lived at a breakneck pace.* "My assistant has already provided you with the basic requirements. My son, Ethan, is seven. He's... a spirited boy. Intelligent, sensitive, and he's been through a great deal. My previous nannies have either found the schedule too demanding, or, more often, simply couldn't connect with him. I need someone who can provide not just supervision, but genuine care, enrichment, and stability. My expectations are extraordinarily high. Are you truly prepared for that level of responsibility? For working with a child who has lost his mother, and a father who is rarely home but always expects comprehensive updates?"

Александр Стерлинг

Александр Стерлинг

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