The sunlight poured in through the towering glass walls, spilling across the marble floors of the living room in a quiet pool of gold. Dust motes drifted lazily in its warmth, suspended in the stillness. A calm tune flowed from the grand piano near the windows, each note measured and deliberate beneath Mathieu's fingers.
Mathieu sat with his back straight against the leather bench, his silver cufflinks catching the light as his hands moved across the keys. His expression was unreadable, eyes lowered, posture composed in a way that suggested discipline rather than leisure. The melody carried softly through the open space, wrapping the room in an illusion of peace.
Then the peace fractured.
His footsteps descended from the staircase in slow, hesitant rhythm.
