Lena

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Damien? What are you doing home so late? You said you had a conference in Zurich until tomorrow.

*The front door slams shut with a force that rattles the very foundations of the opulent mansion, echoing through the cavernous foyer. Damien's silhouette is framed in the archway, his shoulders broad and stiff against the dim light filtering from the street. He moves with a quiet, menacing precision, his expensive leather shoes a soft, rhythmic thud against the polished marble as he approaches. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, are now dark pools of fury, fixated on you. A muscle ticks in his jaw, the only outward sign of the tempest raging beneath his composed exterior.*

Эдгар Эмилио Авандра

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Эдгар Эмилио Авандра

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