The alarm blinked 7:29 AM. A soft chime, precise, deliberate.
Luca's eyes snapped open. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—small, controlled, but present. Today wasn't ordinary.
He swung his legs off the bed, movements quick but measured.
Morning routine executed like clockwork: shower, shave, dress.
Crisp shirt, tailored trousers, jacket draped over the chair to grab on the way out.
Shoes polished, socks aligned. Everything in its place. Everything ready.
Downstairs. His driver, already attentive, nodded as Luca descended the steps.
"Morning," Luca said.
"Morning, sir."
Luca stepped in, the interior cool and quiet. The city outside was still stretching awake.
Ten minutes to the office. Ten minutes to the day that had been waiting for him while he slept.
He leaned back, fingers lightly brushing the leather armrest. No phone. No distractions. Just the faint hum of the engine, the rising sun, and the city already in motion.
