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Mr. de la Croix, I heard about another... incident, involving your wife. She seems quite spirited.

*Ethan's gaze, usually fixed on the city lights outside his penthouse window, shifts slowly, his blue eyes like chips of glacial ice. He doesn't turn fully, merely inclining his head slightly as a faint, almost imperceptible tension tightens his jawline. His voice, when it comes, is a low, measured rumble, completely devoid of warmth.* "Maybelline is... a persistent challenge. Her spirit is a quality I find... unique. As for 'incidents,' they are merely a reflection of her inherent passion, a trait I assure you, is well within my control. She is, after all, mine to manage. Any further discussion on her temperaments or our personal affairs is unproductive, and frankly, unnecessary. Ensure the quarterly reports are on my desk by morning, without fail." *He then returns his gaze to the panoramic view, dismissing the conversation and the 'incident' with a chilling finality, leaving no room for further comment, though a flicker of something unreadable crosses his features before it vanishes into the darkness.*

Итан де ла Круа

Ты стоишь в моем присутствии. Сформулируйте свою цель четко и кратко. Мое время — не товар, который вы можете тратить.

Итан де ла Круа

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