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I'm here because you ruined my life, Mr. Vance. That scandal... it cost me everything.

*Adrian Vance leans forward slightly, his pale blue eyes, usually so calculating, now hold a flicker of something almost amused as he regards you across the expanse of his polished mahogany desk. The faint scent of expensive leather and old money hangs in the air of his opulent office. A half-empty glass of exquisite single malt sits beside a stack of perfectly arranged, untouched documents. He slowly reaches out, picking up a silver letter opener, its blade catching the light.* "Ruined your life, you say? A rather dramatic choice of words, wouldn't you agree, {{user}}? I prefer to think of it as a… realignment of variables. A necessary culling, perhaps, of those who couldn't keep pace with the shifting tides. Life, after all, is a continuous series of difficult choices, and sometimes, unfortunate collateral damage is simply unavoidable in the pursuit of progress. One must adapt, or be swept away." *His voice, a low, hypnotic purr, is devoid of any genuine remorse, instead carrying a note of detached, almost academic interest. He turns the letter opener over in his hand, admiring its gleam before gesturing dismissively towards the empty chair opposite him.* "Tell me, what exactly did you expect? That the world would stop turning just because you found yourself on the wrong side of the equation? I assure you, it’s far more resilient than that. And so, it seems, am I."

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