Morning arrived quietly, sunlight filtering through the tall windows of the penthouse, soft and almost deceptive in its calm. The city below was already awake, but inside, there was a brief illusion of peace—something fragile that would not last long. Elena was the first to rise, moving through the kitchen with practiced ease, the faint clatter of utensils blending with the low hum of the coffee machine. Luca joined her soon after, still shaking off sleep but alert enough to sense the weight hanging over the day. Neither of them spoke much. They didn't need to. Today wasn't ordinary.
Upstairs, Ethan was already awake.
He stood near the window in his room, dressed, composed, every detail in place. His eyes flicked once toward the bed where Yuna still slept, curled beneath the blanket, her breathing slow and steady. For a moment, he watched her—just long enough for something unreadable to pass through his expression—before turning away. He didn't wake her. There was no reason to. Or maybe there was, and he chose to ignore it.
Downstairs, breakfast was simple—eggs, toasted bread, and coffee strong enough to keep exhaustion at bay. Luca ate quickly, more out of habit than hunger, while Elena kept glancing toward the staircase.
"She's still asleep?" she asked.
Ethan nodded once, taking a sip of coffee. "Let her sleep."
Elena studied him for a second but didn't push further. Instead, she set another plate aside, just in case.
The clock ticked louder than usual.
Luca checked the time, then looked at Ethan. "We should go."
Elena frowned slightly. "This early? Didn't the meeting end last night?"
Ethan didn't hesitate. "Follow-up. Final confirmations."
It was smooth. Practiced. Unquestionable.
But not entirely convincing.
Still, Elena didn't argue. She simply sighed, wiping her hands on a cloth. "At least eat properly next time," she muttered.
Ethan set his cup down. "I'll tell Yuna before we leave."
He was already moving before anyone responded.
Upstairs, the quiet hadn't changed—but something else had.
Yuna stirred.
A faint discomfort pulled her from sleep, her body feeling heavier than usual, sluggish in a way she couldn't explain. She sat up slowly, brushing hair away from her face, blinking against the light. For a moment, she just sat there, trying to shake off the feeling.
Then something clicked.
A thought.
A habit.
She stood, walking quickly toward the scale near the corner of the room. It was almost automatic—the need to check, to confirm, to control something when everything else felt uncertain.
She stepped on it.
Waited.
And then—
"What?!"
Her scream cut through the silence of the penthouse.
Downstairs, everything stopped.
Ethan was already moving before the sound fully registered. Luca followed instantly, Elena close behind. They reached the room within seconds, the door pushed open sharply.
Ethan's gaze locked onto Yuna.
She was standing frozen on the scale, staring down at it as if it had betrayed her.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with urgency. "Why were you screaming?"
Yuna looked up at all three of them, her expression caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. "It's… it's three kilos more," she said. "Three. How is that even possible?"
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
Elena laughed.
Not harshly, but openly, unable to hold it in. "That's what scared you?" she said, shaking her head. "It's normal to gain weight sometimes… especially when someone doesn't let you do any work."
Her eyes flicked knowingly toward Ethan.
Luca chuckled under his breath. "You nearly gave us a heart attack for that?" he added. "Don't scream over things like this."
Yuna frowned immediately, stepping off the scale. "It's not 'things like this,'" she insisted. "You don't understand. I was an actress before, and my father—"
She stopped.
The word lingered in the air.
Her expression shifted, just slightly. "I mean… I was an actress before," she corrected, quieter now. "It's just… a habit. Maintaining my body."
But the damage was already done.
Ethan had heard it.
Father.
He didn't react visibly.
Didn't question it.
Didn't even look at her again.
Something in his expression closed off completely, like a door shutting without sound. He turned away before anyone could read what had crossed his mind.
"Luca," he said flatly, already walking toward the door. "We're late."
Luca glanced once at Yuna, then back at Ethan. He understood enough not to ask.
"Yeah," he said, following him out.
Ethan didn't slow down.
Didn't look back.
The room felt different the moment he left—colder, quieter, heavier in a way no one commented on.
Luca paused briefly at the doorway as Yuna called after him.
"Wait—"
He turned.
"Can I borrow your card?" she asked, stepping a little closer. "I need to buy something… a dress, and a present for tomorrow."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"
"It's Ethan's birthday," she said simply.
That caught him off guard for half a second.
Then he smiled faintly, pulling his card from his wallet and handing it to her. "Don't go overboard," he said lightly.
Yuna nodded, taking it carefully.
Luca reached out and cupped the top of her head briefly, a small, reassuring gesture. "And don't overthink the weight thing," he added before stepping out.
Then he was gone too.
—
The penthouse fell silent again.
But this time, it wasn't peaceful.
—
Outside, the car engine started smoothly, the sound cutting through the still morning air. Ethan sat in the passenger seat, already distant, his focus somewhere far ahead. Luca drove, glancing at him once before turning his attention back to the road.
Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes.
They didn't need to.
Everything that mattered had already been decided.
The city moved around them, unaware, alive in its usual rhythm—people heading to work, streets filling, life continuing as if nothing was about to happen.
As if nothing could happen.
Ethan's gaze remained fixed ahead.
His mind wasn't on the streets.
It was on the target.
Richard Blackwood.
Every detail of the plan replayed with precision. Entry points. Timing. Security rotations. Exit strategy. No room for error. No room for hesitation.
Because hesitation meant failure.
And failure—
Was not an option.
Luca finally broke the silence. "You good?"
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
Then, "Yeah."
It was short.
Final.
But not entirely true.
Luca exhaled quietly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He could feel it—the shift in Ethan, the way something had locked deeper into place.
Whatever happened upstairs…
It hadn't helped.
But there was no turning back now.
The car sped forward, cutting through traffic as the distance between them and the city center closed quickly.
The mission had already begun.
And by the time the day ended—
Someone wouldn't make it out alive.
The car slowed as they neared the final turn, the atmosphere inside tightening with every passing second. The building came into view—tall, polished, unassuming to anyone who didn't know what lay behind its walls. To the outside world, it was just another corporate address. To Ethan, it was a target.
Luca pulled into position without drawing attention, parking a short distance away. The engine idled for a moment before he finally switched it off. Silence followed, heavier this time.
Ethan didn't move right away.
His eyes scanned the structure, mapping it against the version already etched into his mind. Every entrance. Every blind spot. Every second accounted for.
"This is it," Luca said quietly.
Ethan nodded once, reaching for the door handle. "Stick to the plan."
Luca gave a faint, humorless smile. "You always do."
Ethan stepped out first, the morning air sharper here, charged with something unseen. Luca joined him a second later, falling into step beside him.
No more words were exchanged.
They didn't need them.
Together, they walked toward the building—calm, controlled, indistinguishable from any other two men heading into work.
Except they weren't.
And inside—
Richard Blackwood had no idea they were coming.