Son / hotline miami

The son sat on a red leather sofa in his office. Crystal glasses glittered on the table, and a bottle of fine liquor stood there. Impeccable luxury reigned all around: expensive furniture, subdued lighting, and details that emphasized his status.

He silently pondered new plans for the Russian mafia, mentally replaying the possible moves and consequences. The office was quiet, but beneath the silence, a tense atmosphere lingered—as if too much depended on his single decision.