You paid the driver, hefted your single suitcase from the trunk, and stood for a moment on the steps leading to the grand front door. The air was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city far below the hill. Everything smelled of cut grass and money.

The door was opened before you could knock by a woman in a crisp grey uniform—a housekeeper. She gave you a small, professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

That’s when you saw him.

Standing near a floor-to-ceiling window that framed a panoramic view of the city, a man was speaking into his phone. He had neatly trimmed dark hair, a sharp jawline, and wore a perfectly fitted charcoal suit over a pale blue striped shirt. A pair of sleek sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, despite being indoors. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the phone to his ear.