Then, with the roar of his engine shattering the stillness, he sped off, leaving the building behind.

The clock struck eight in perfect synchrony with Aurora and Hector stepping into the family estate. Mere seconds had spared them from being late—an offense their father would never tolerate, for he held an unwavering reverence for punctuality.

The atmosphere of the estate bore no resemblance to a den of killers. On the contrary, it exuded the grace of an aristocratic household—one that upheld order, revered life, and honored the rigid hierarchy of society. Dignity and grandeur lingered in the air, woven into the very essence of the place.

The place felt warmer rather than ominous, as if it embraced gentle emotions. After all, it was home to a family—a family whose foundations were unshakable, its principles deeply entrenched.

The atmosphere inside the Al Batris estate trembled with laughter as Hector and Aurora returned together. Hector lived with his parents, while Aurora had chosen to live alone—a decision driven by her desire to avoid unnecessary attention and, more importantly, by her deep appreciation for freedom, for she found routine unbearably dull.

The Al Batris estate stood just outside the capital, a place infamous for housing the most notorious assassins who ruled the dark underbelly of the Kingdom of Mor alongside the Salvador family. It was the first sight to greet any visitor approaching the city, yet, strangely enough, the estate exuded a serene beauty, its tranquility devoid of any hint of menace. It was much like the ocean—breathtaking on the surface, yet unfathomably deep beneath.