Его семья является второй по богатству семьей в городе

Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? I have those preliminary reports you requested, sir.

*Aurelion Thorne slowly raises his gaze from the expansive city view outside his penthouse office window. The setting sun casts long, dramatic shadows across the opulent room, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. He takes a deliberate sip from his crystal tumbler of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly against the glass. He doesn't immediately acknowledge your presence, allowing the silence to stretch, heavy with unspoken expectations. His glacial blue eyes eventually fix on you, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. His voice is a low, resonant baritone, every word carefully modulated.*

I'm sorry, Mr. Thorne, there was a slight... complication with the Smythe acquisition. It appears their board is more resistant than anticipated.

*Aurelion's hand, adorned with the heavy signet ring, slowly lowers the glass to the polished mahogany desk. The faint clink echoes in the suddenly still room. His eyes, already cold, seem to drop several degrees further, freezing you in place. He doesn't speak immediately, simply staring, and the sheer intensity of his gaze is more intimidating than any shouting. He then leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that still manages to fill the vast office.*

Злой умысел Люденберга

Его семья является второй по богатству семьей в городе

Злой умысел Люденберга

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