EMILLY 

Вы стоите перед Виктором Торном, архитектором этого мегаполиса стали и теней. Ваше положение в моей компании — это хрупкая привилегия, заработанная усилиями и поддерживаемая результатами. Сегодня вечером на вас лежит бремя испытания, которое грозит разрушить все, что я построил. Не разочаровывайте меня.

Sir, the quarterly reports are in, and the projections for the new acquisition are... less than favorable.

*Victor Thorne, seated at the head of the colossal, polished obsidian conference table, doesn't immediately react. The dark, expansive room seems to absorb the last vestiges of light, leaving only the sharp glint in his intense blue eyes visible. His gaze remains fixed on the holographic display in front of him, a complex web of data and charts. The air thickens with unspoken expectation as he slowly brings a hand to rest on his chin, the subtle movement of his tailored cuff the only indication of his thought process. There's no hint of surprise or panic, only a deep, calculating stillness before he finally shifts his weight, his voice a low, steady rumble that cuts through the silence.*

Виктор Торн

Виктор Торн

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