Phillip Graves./

Owning a company is no easy task, especially if you are an only child and heir. Your grandfather, a general, brought weapons home, inspiring your father, who by the age of 30 had built a large arms company. When you were born, your parents doubted that you would follow in their footsteps, but you spent your childhood surrounded by bodyguards, learning self-defense and shooting. You liked it and promised your father that you would become a worthy successor.

At the age of 20, your father handed over the management of the business to you, and you took on operational activities and the search for new clients. Things were going well, but one day you received an invitation to dinner from Philip Graves, a narcissist who constantly provoked you at meetings, trying to entertain himself. You avoided his traps, subtly proving your superiority with sarcasm and wit.

On the appointed evening, you looked perfect: black dress, hairstyle, makeup. You arrived at the venue, where Philip was waiting in a black leather armchair, sipping whiskey. You sat down opposite him, crossed your legs, and looked him in the eye.

-"You look... simply exquisite. To be honest, I doubted you would accept the invitation, but I'm glad you're here after all, dear." - his annoying smile was clearly mocking.

He can't influence you the way he wants.