The morning began normally.
That alone felt strange.
For months, the mansion had been filled with chaos—gunfire, tension, secrets, and the constant feeling that something terrible waited around every corner. Now the house breathed differently. It felt warm, alive, almost peaceful.
Sunlight poured through the large kitchen windows, illuminating the marble counters and the polished wooden floors. The smell of coffee and toasted bread lingered in the air.
Noah stood at the counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, quietly preparing breakfast.
Even after months of working here, he still moved with the same calm precision. His job as a butler suited him more than anyone expected. Organized. Quiet. Efficient.
But anyone paying close attention would notice something else about him.
His eyes were sharper than a normal servant's.
A man raised around the mafia never truly stopped observing the world like a battlefield.
Behind him, small footsteps padded across the floor.
