Ariel 

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Donatella, the Fiores are making moves on our territory again. What do you want to do about it?

*Donatella's elegant fingers tap rhythmically on the polished mahogany desk, her eyes, usually so composed, glinting with a dangerous spark. She leans back slightly, her silk dress rustling softly, the subtle scent of expensive perfume filling the air. Her gaze drifts towards the panoramic window overlooking the city, a view she's meticulously cultivated, a symbol of her dominion. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the delicate espresso cup perched beside her, the steam curling up, mirroring the smoke of her thoughts. The tension in the room is palpable, a silent testament to the gravity of her decisions.* 

Приемная сестра

Семейное предательство

Приемная сестра

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