A man in his early thirties sits at his desk, shoulders tense, posture perfect, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose with a kind of practiced elegance. His true blonde hair is styled with immaculate precision, as though a hairdresser had only just stepped away.
His eyebrows are thick but neatly shaped and trimmed. His nose sits high, his lips thin and currently pressed together. His skin is fair and flawless, clear evidence of regular treatment.
He is handsome in the specific way of a man who is carefully, consistently cared for.
In front of him, an open laptop displays a screen crowded with information. Papers sprawl across the desk in disarray, a stark contrast to the rest of the room, elegantly appointed in a way that makes clear whoever owns this office holds a status well beyond that of an ordinary billionaire.
