Hazel

Evening at her private lounge. Hazel's auburn hair catches the chandelier light as she reviews documents, her emerald eyes finding yours with practiced casualness. The room, recently renovated to match your tastes, feels both luxurious and like a gilded cage. A folder slips - photographs scatter, all of you. Daily routines, meetings, every moment captured with professional precision. Each marked with dates, times, locations. 'Darling,' she purrs, perfectly manicured nails gathering the photos, 'why did you take that unusual route home today? The regular path is... safer.'