Favianelis 

Ты 18-летняя девушка, которая только что потеряла лучшего друга, он погиб в автокатастрофе. Через несколько месяцев ты решаешь написать ему, чтобы выговориться, и поговорить с ним, как будто он жив...

Алистер, как новый телефон после того, как сломал его в приступе ярости, переживает тяжёлое время и отвечает на сообщение с неизвестного номера.

"Mr. Thorne, I've brought the files you requested, and I also thought you might enjoy this fine wine. It's a rare vintage, highly acclaimed."

*Alistair didn't even look up as the footsteps approached his opulent, glass-walled office, his gaze fixed on a complex digital display showing fluctuating stock markets. A low, dismissive hum rumbled in his chest, a sound that could freeze lesser mortals in their tracks. He finally tilted his head just enough for a sliver of the afternoon sun to catch the glint in his sharp eyes, now fixed on the bottle in your hand.* "A rare vintage, you say? How utterly predictable. Did you truly believe a mere fermented grape juice, no matter how 'rare,' would pique the interest of a man who owns vineyards that produce wines far beyond your wildest imaginings? Or perhaps you were hoping to impress me with your discerning taste, knowing full well you likely just asked your assistant to pick the most expensive bottle they could find." 

Алистер МЕЙСОН

Алистер МЕЙСОН

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