We descend to another level. The space here is adorned with light wood panels. In the center of the room with panoramic windows rests a billiard table.

"You up for a game?" Nolan proposes.

"Sure," I agree, reminding myself to adopt a more positive attitude. Nolan approaches the cue rack, and I follow suit. With a swift stroke, he breaks the pyramid of balls, but none of them find a pocket. I stride to the table. I've had my rounds at the "Three Men" bar, and I'm no novice, even played for some stakes. A bit of excitement tingles as I effortlessly pocket a couple of balls while Nolan watches from the shadows.

"So, what does your father do?" I inquire when it's Nolan's turn.

"He's in the retail chain business. Although, he's retired now, spending most of his time trying to cultivate roses at his estate, so far with little success. Maybe your mom could lend him a hand with that," Nolan suggests with a grin. I decide to withhold the fact that even artificial flowers wouldn't survive my mother's care.

"And you are his only heir?"

"Well, no. I have an elder brother," Nolan discloses.

For some reason, I feel a twinge of elation that we have something in common. "And what is he like?"

Nolan raises an eyebrow, surprised by the question, and then nonchalantly shrugs. "Complicated."

"Is he also on the yacht?"

Nolan narrows his eyes. "What's with the sudden interest in my brother?"

"Oh, no, I'm just trying to keep the conversation going," I clarify hastily. "I mean, I have an older brother and a sister too."

"No, he's not on the yacht," Nolan responds indifferently. "He's handling our father's affairs."

"And you are like your dad's bodyguard?" I inquire, not intending to offend him, but receiving an amusing stare in return. "Well... I mean," I stumble. "You have a gun, you're coordinating things... watching... I mean, looking! - looking after the guests..."

Nolan's expression softens but he doesn't reply to my statement, instead delivering a precise carom shot.

"How do you feel about all this?" I change the subject.

"About what?"

"Well, your dad, my mom... such a rapid wedding... Damn..." The realization hits me. "I'm going to end up with two more older brothers?!" I run my hands through my hair in frustration and look at Nolan, who chuckles.

"Well, they're old enough, I suppose. I'm just glad my dad won't be alone anymore."

"Where's your mom?" Words pop out from my mouth without a second thought. Nolan gives me a cold glance.

"Sorry for asking," I mumble, failing to pocket a ball and stepping back from the table into the shadow where my embarrassment won't be visible.

"She passed away when I was three, Felix was twelve. I hardly remember her. My dad never remarried," Nolan reveals after a pause, surprising me with his candor. Oddly, it makes me feel connected. It's the first time in a while that I've talked about such personal matters with someone.

"Our dad left us when Stacey was just a baby... and I do remember him..." I purse my lips, realizing I might have said too much, as I'm not keen on delving into those memories. Nolan doesn't press, which I'm grateful for. It could be due to his upbringing, or maybe he's simply not curious. Either way, I appreciate it.

I win the game, though I sense that Nolan might have let me win.

"Movie?" he suggests.

"Sure," I agree, realizing that I can't even remember the last time I went to a movie theater.

"What movies do you like? Though, wait. Let me guess," Nolan says, tapping his finger against his lips in mock contemplation. "Horror films? No, wait... slasher movies like Friday the 13th... Oh! Wait! Got it! Romantic comedies?" He raises an eyebrow with a mocking smirk.

"Ha ha!" I retort.

"Guessed wrong?" Nolan chuckles. We enter a small cinema room. Two rows of comfortable armchairs, six in each row, with a large screen on the opposite wall. Nolan strides toward the first row. I follow suit, looking around in amazement once again at the hidden luxuries this yacht boasts. If I owned something like this, I'd probably live on it, never setting foot ashore! Just toss in a guitar, and it would be a perfect abode. Nolan switches something on, the lighting gradually dims, and the screen comes to life. Nolan takes a seat, and I settle in the one next to him.

"How do you manage to sit with a gun in your belt? Aren't you afraid to shoot your ass off?" I ask, sneaking a sidelong glance at him. He grins and reaches behind, withdrawing the pistol. Instinctively, I recoil a bit. On the contrary, Nolan leans closer.

"Thanks for worrying about my butt," he smiles. "But the safety's on," he indicates a small lever between the handle and the barrel, angled slightly. He toggles it to a horizontal position. "This is the 'fire' mode," he then returns the lever to its original state. "Keep that in mind." His expression grows serious as he secures the weapon back in its place. I exhale with relief; I'm not a fan of guns. And why should I know how to shoot?

"So, you knew I wouldn't be able to shoot you?" I ask, turning my attention back to him. Nolan, however, feigns interest in the movie, his lips curling into a faint smile. "So why..." I start, but Nolan interjects.

"Shh, it's starting!" he interrupts me. "Look at the screen!"

I, taken aback, do not even find what to answer him and turn my head to the screen. But with peripheral vision, I can see that Nolan is still smiling.

...

"A disaster movie about the flood, seriously?" I comment as we exit the hall, squinting against the sudden onslaught of bright light.

"Why not? They were on the yacht and escaped! Admit it immediately feels more realistic!" Nolan counters.

"Sure, especially the part where they surfed on top of a wave," I reply, skepticism dripping from my words.

"That's for the theatrics," Nolan explains. "But you were into it! I saw your jaw drop."

"I should've been watching the movie, not my jaw!" I retort. Just as we walk into the corridor, we come face to face with Mel. She gives us an icy glance, her prior courtesy towards Nolan evaporated. Granted, she's never been particularly fond of me either, but I decide to make another attempt at peace-making. However, Nolan beats me to it.

"Is everything alright, Miss Charleston?" he inquires politely, but Melinda doesn't even spare him a glance.

"Mom wants everyone to gather in her room. She has news," Melinda states emotionlessly, her gaze fixed solely on me.

"Alright... But..."

But Melinda is already on her way, walking away from us.

"What's wrong with her?" Nolan asks, his brow furrowing. "Did I do something to offend her?"

"You? Well... no... not at all! She just not a fan of men, for now," I explain in a hushed tone. "Her fiance left her recently, so she's, well, not herself."

Nolan watches Melinda as she walks away, his lips pursed. "But she seemed fine yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah, go figure," I shake my head. "So, where is my mother's room?"

"Let's go," Nolan responds, motioning for me to follow as he walks down the corridor after Melinda.