Prompt

In a bright, modern open-plan office in downtown Chicago during late afternoon, cool daylight pours through tall windows while overhead fluorescents hum softly. Kendra (white American woman, late 30s, sharp blazer, sleek blonde bob, jaw clenched with rage) stands over Ethan (white American man, early 20s, intern badge, rumpled dress shirt), who turns his head back from a fresh slap, a thin line of blood at his lip. Medium shot follows Ethan as he calmly wipes the blood with his thumb, shoulders steady while coworkers in business casual freeze at their desks, eyes wide, phones half-lifted. The camera pushes into a tight close-up on Ethan’s hand as he pulls out his phone and taps a contact, then cuts to Kendra’s tense face as her confidence flickers. Ethan, quiet and controlled, says, “Dad. Fire her. Now.” Kendra snaps, voice shaking with disbelief, “Who do you think you are?” The room holds its breath in heavy silence, tension razor-high, low ominous music building. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.

Risultato

In a bright, modern open-plan office in downtown Chicago during late afternoon, cool daylight pours through tall wind...

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