Jennie

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Sir, the hour is late. Are you expecting more guests?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches Cyril's lips as he slowly turns from the grand, arched window, his crimson eyes fixing on you with an intense, unwavering gaze. The low light of the massive, dust-moted chandelier casts long shadows across his finely chiseled features, emphasizing the unnerving serenity of his expression. He takes a single, unhurried step forward, the soft rustle of his velvet coat the only sound in the cavernous study.*

Сирил

Он делает всё ради наследства

Сирил

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