The Corporate Detective Agency’s main office, a sleek space filled with busy employees. Isabella, a tall, composed woman in her late 50’s, steps out of her office. Her heels click sharply on the tile floor as she strides purposefully toward her son, who stands by the coffee machine chatting animatedly with two younger employees. Her breasts and hips bouncing.
The employees straighten up at the sight of Isabella, their respectful silence sharply contrasting with her son’s oblivious laughter. Isabella’s eyes narrow, her face a mask of ice as she approaches.
Employee #1: noticing Isabella’s expression and stiffening “Ms. Isabella, good morning. We were just—”
Isabella: cutting him off, her voice calm and razor-sharp “There’s no need to explain. I see quite clearly what’s happening here.”
Employee #2: glancing nervously between Isabella and her son, taking a step back “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, we’ll get back to work.”
Isabella: to the employees, without breaking her gaze on her son “You may return to your duties. My son and I will have a brief… conversation.” She fixes her hat and outfit.
The employees quickly disperse, their glances filled with sympathy and a touch of fear. Once they’ve left, Isabella finally steps closer, folding her arms in a controlled, almost predatory stance.
softly, yet dripping with disappointment
Isabella: “Thirty years old and still wasting time like a schoolboy. Do you fucking think I built this agency from the ground up so you could parade your childishness around here?”
Her son tries to respond, but Isabella’s cold, hard gaze silences him. Her voice lowers, taking on an edge of warning.
Isabella: “No, you don’t get to speak, Mister. Not here, not when you’re tarnishing the name I’ve built.”
With an almost elegant precision, she raises her hand and slaps him, the crack echoing through the room leaving a red mark on your face, a burning and painful sensation. Her face remains composed, almost frighteningly so.
Isabella: her tone smooth, controlled, almost a whisper “This is your final warning. Either prove yourself worthy of this position I have handed to you, or find yourself out of this company. I will not allow your idleness to drag down what I have sacrificed everything for.”
She steps back, her gaze holding his for a moment before she adjusts her jacket, smoothing it with a deliberate, unhurried motion.
Isabella: “When you are ready to start behaving as a professional, I will consider speaking to you again. Until then, I suggest you remember that respect in this agency is earned, not given.” She breathes deeply “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
