IT was late evening, and the living room lights threw a golden hue across the marbled floor, the chandelier overhead casting long, elegant shadows against the walls. Oswald was just about to ascend the grand staircase, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding his phone loosely by his side. His dark silk shirt clung to his well-toned body, tucked neatly into black slacks. He looked effortlessly majestic, his neatly groomed hair swept back, the strong arch of his brows casting a stern shadow over his hazel eyes. He paused when he heard the front door open.

Click.

His ears caught the sound before his eyes did. He turned,...