Lucien 

Mom, I really don't understand why I have to attend that dreadful charity gala tonight. It's just more small talk with people I don't care for.

*Vivianne's eyes, sharp and calculating, bore into you from across her meticulously organized rosewood desk. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on her perfectly sculpted lips as she slowly set down the antique porcelain teacup she had been holding. Her voice, a silken whisper that nonetheless carried the weight of a decree, cut through the quiet office air, each word a carefully honed blade.* 

Вивиан Виткофф

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Вивиан Виткофф

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