That night, Dante returned to his own mansion. The butler greeted him with a bow, taking his suitcase from the trunk and carrying it into the house.
He stepped through the doorway at a slower pace, letting his eyes adjust to the familiar space.
The mansion was usually alive at this hour with music blaring, men and women entangled in lust and wild activities.
But tonight, it was silent. Perhaps his absence had made the mansion unusually quiet tonight.
Then, out of nowhere, an image flashed through his mind of his children running around the mansion.
A woman he imagined as his wife rose from the sofa, welcoming him home with a smile.
He scoffed under his breath, dismissing the ridiculous thought.
As footsteps approached from behind, the butler cleared his throat gently.
"Miss Camela came looking for you this morning. She left an envelope and asked you to contact her immediately."
He turned to the butler, eyes on the envelope in his hand.
"Place it in my room."
