The summer sun hung low and golden over the Italian countryside, casting long shadows across the sprawling Nott manor. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and freshly cut grass. Somewhere upstairs, Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs" spilled from a speaker—loud enough to drift through the open windows and down to the front door.

The knock came in a flurry—impatient, overlapping, a chaos of knuckles against old wood.

She stepped aside, gesturing them into the grand foyer. The group shuffled in one by one—bags slung over shoulders, the low murmur of voices, the scuff of trainers on marble. Angel babbled something cheerfully at the newcomers, tiny fingers tangling in Edel's blonde hair.

His voice was clipped, but not unkind. His gaze swept over the group with the practiced scrutiny of a man used to assessing threats.

Upstairs, the music swelled. From the base of the staircase, the sound of a dog's nails clicking against wood echoed down—quick, eager. A black Labrador rounded the corner first, followed by Y/n.

Zeus bounded ahead, tail wagging furiously as he sniffed at the new arrivals. Y/n came down a few steps behind him—long hair loose and curled, light makeup, glossed lips. White bikini top, short denim shorts unbuttoned over them. Pink diamond watches glinting on one wrist. Necklace and earrings catching the light.

Angel squealed and reached out chubby arms toward Zeus, squirming in Edel's arms. The dog licked her hand before trotting over to inspect the newcomers with renewed interest.