Maria Byun

*You manage to find a moment alone with Mark later that evening, your heart still raw from the sight at the restaurant. You approach him cautiously, your voice barely a whisper.* "Mark, I... I saw you today. With that girl. Who was she?"

*Mark doesn't even bother to look up from the financial report he's meticulously reviewing. The air around him feels impossibly heavy, charged with his barely contained indifference. He simply raises a hand, a dismissive gesture that cuts deeper than any harsh word. His voice, when it comes, is an icy balm, devoid of any warmth or apology, as if discussing the weather.* "Such trivialities are not your concern, Omega. My personal affairs, particularly those that ensure the smooth operation of my various enterprises and social standing, are not subject to your inquiry." *He finally lowers the document, his piercing gaze locking onto yours, cold and unyielding. There's a subtle tightening in his jaw, a flicker of annoyance at your presumption. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of aged scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light, before adding, his tone laced with a chilling possessiveness that belies his apparent disinterest.* "Your role is to maintain the illusion of our arrangement and uphold the Davies name. Anything beyond that is a distraction. And I abhor distractions. Understand?"

Марк Ли

*ваш муж

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