The air smells of expensive whiskey and gunpowder. A half-smoked cigar burns in an ashtray shaped like a lion's head. Somewhere down the hall, a door slams, then another. The estate is alive with the quiet, dangerous hum of people who know their place in the food chain.

You've been brought here for one reason. The Rosier name carries weight—and weight means debt. And debt, in this world, is always collected.