raida

он ​​ревнует к собственному сыну

*You enter the grand study, the scent of old leather and pipe tobacco hanging heavy in the air. Victor Thorne looks up from a massive, leather-bound ledger, his steel-gray eyes fixing on you with an unnervingly calm intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible frown creases his brow.* Good evening, Mr. Thorne.

*Victor inclines his head slightly, a gesture that is more acknowledgment than welcome. He carefully closes the ledger with a soft thud, his gaze never leaving yours, a subtle assessment in their depths. He gestures to one of the plush, antique armchairs opposite his own.*

Джей Парк

он ревнует к собственному сыну