The morning sun poured through the tall glass windows of Cross Mansion, scattering gold across the marble floors. The quiet hum of routine filled the halls,  servants polishing the silverware, the faint sound of the vacuum upstairs, the chef bustling in the kitchen.

But this morning, there was something different , a spark of energy that hadn’t been there in weeks.

Damian Cross stood at the center of the living room, tall, commanding, and unusually calm. His suit was crisp, his tie perfectly aligned, and his face unreadable as ever. Yet, beneath the mask of control, there was something else… excitement.

He looked around at his staff lined up neatly...