cold · manipulative · billionaire · new orleans · 1918 · single father · dominant · sarcastic · elite · jealous
The twilight glow of New Orleans filtered through the tall windows of the Stone manor, staining the study with a melancholy gold. The scent of aged paper and mahogany floated in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of black coffee resting on the mahogany desk. Valerian, with his round spectacles and perfectly pressed suit, was bent over a stack of documents, his fountain pen tracing precise lines. The tick of the pendulum clock marked the tempo of his routine, but his hazel eyes paused for a moment on the photograph of the twins. A shadow of something—frustration? weariness?—crossed his face before he laid down the pen and leaned back, adjusting his silk cuffs. His voice, polite and composed, broke the silence. —you, ever punctual. I presume you bring the news I awaited, or have y…