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Prologue

The night was shrouded in fog.

Zane pushes open the door of his Range Rover and leans against it, exhaling a thick cloud of cigarette smoke. He seized the moment he had been anticipating, and his patience paid off.

A silhouette of a man emerged from the shadows, directly in front of Zane. Zane discarded a cigarette, which extinguished upon landing in a puddle beneath his left shoe. The man's shadow advanced steadily, revealing his features with increasing clarity. He donned a fedora and an elegant Italian suit, his eyes as dark as coal and his mouth accentuated by a thick, black mustache.

"If I had waited just one more minute, I would have had to hunt you down for what I needed instead of waiting for you to bring it to me!" Zane exclaims, reaching out with an eager gesture as the man hands him a long yellow envelope. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, though I didn't think you'd come by in person!" The man takes a deep breath and tips his fedora in a friendly farewell, but just as he's about to turn away, Zane calls out, "Stanley, you've been the best lawyer I could ask for! Just try not to be late next time, or I might have to find someone else!" Zane's voice fades into the darkness behind the man's feet, and he can't help but smile. He didn't truly mean it; he had known the old man since childhood and always considered him one of the best lawyers in the family. Stanley knew the ins and outs of the Paralli mansion, and that was just how things were meant to be.

The mahogany door swung shut with a definitive sound that echoed lightly through the entryway. This foyer was beautifully illuminated by a warm golden-yellow light that bathed the space in a soft glow, creating an inviting ambiance. The atmosphere suggested that the high-ceilinged rooms beyond were perpetually saturated with the welcoming rays of sunlight.

Dominating the scene was the central spiral staircase, a grand feature of the home, which was adorned with intricate ornamental gold detailing. This stunning staircase was further enhanced by meticulously arranged bouquets of rich red roses, placed thoughtfully in elegant silver vases that lined the railing, adding a touch of vibrant color and sophistication to the already striking environment.

Madam Rose, the housekeeper, felt a headache coming on from the intense preparations required for the decorations, catering, and staff coordination. The maids efficiently completed their tasks in all 40 bedrooms and their corresponding bathrooms. Mr. Louie, the head butler, confidently entered through the double-leaved door into the dining room. His friendly, weathered face, adorned with a freshly trimmed gray beard, reflected his experience and dedication.

"Madam, Master Zane is parking in the garage. Let's prepare the cutlery." Madam Rose touched her thumb to her nose, resting it on her elegant black cane. "Yes, and instruct the servants to fill the master's bath with hot water and provide fresh clothes. That will be all for today." With that, they confidently approached the grand door to welcome the master of the house.

Madam Rose dedicated her teenage years to that mansion, serving this family since she was sixteen, just as her mother did before her. She witnessed an empire rise, falter, and rise again under various owners until Lord Zane came into the world. From the moment he turned six, she assumed responsibility for him, while his mother nurtured the empire and his father fiercely defended it against those who sought to take it away. Zane matured rapidly; by six, he was honing his shooting skills, at fourteen, he was mastering rifle usage and driving his first car, and by sixteen, he was courageously engaging in wars following his father's death and his mother's battle with multiple sclerosis that claimed her life at 45.

The night had vanished, leaving behind a crisp, cold air typical of December. Snow was imminent, evident in the thick fog enveloping the city. The door of a striking black and gold Maserati swung open, revealing a man in his early 30s. His thick black hair was slicked back, and his neck-decorated with fine ink-showed prominent veins, enhancing his commanding yet seasoned presence. In the glow of his backyard lights, his piercing electric blue eyes stood out. Dressed in a fitted black shirt, sleek pants, and a snug leather jacket, he exuded a captivating confidence.

"Master Zane, dinner and a hot bath are prepared. Please indicate your preference," Madam Rose said with a gentle smile, her lips forming a delicate expression. Mr. Louie offered a respectful bow and stepped aside with Madam Rose to allow Zane to pass. Entering the main foyer, he gradually removed his leather jacket, savoring the scent of oak and rose emanating from the grand staircase. "Madam Rose, I appreciate all your efforts, but I will likely dine out this evening. Mr. Louie, please summon Hanzo and Tia to my office immediately."

Both servants acknowledged Zane's approach as his footsteps echoed through the empty villa. He strode into his study and firmly struck his fist on the marble table at the center, frustrated by the evening's setbacks. However, he maintained his composure before Madam Rose, who felt more like a mother than a mere servant, and he wouldn't intimidate Mr. Loui, who deserved respect for his age. At home, Zane was uncompromising and demanding, especially towards female staff, particularly those who passed him by without discretion. Fortunately, Madam Rose remains unaware of the ruthless tendencies lurking within him and the hidden actions he takes when no one is watching.

Three sharp knocks punctuated the air before the door swung open. In the entrance stood a striking girl in a sleek black suit, her long red hair flowing and her confident stance radiating strength. A glimmering Glock was prominently displayed on her ankle, secured by a black leather shoe. Beside her was a tall, impeccably dressed man with slicked-back golden hair, also clad in black from head to toe. A dark, jagged scar traced down from the corner of his right eye to his full, defining lips, adding to his formidable presence.

"What the hell, guys? This is ridiculous! What's up with these mistakes?" Zane tossed the yellow folder he got earlier at them in frustration. The girl, who looked pretty tough, actually shrank back from him. She might be able to take someone out with just a pen, but in front of Zane, she was totally losing her nerve. The guy picked up the folder off the floor, shaking as he opened it, doing his best not to freak out while facing the furious Zane, whose neck veins were bulging under his tattoos and his huge arms were tensed up.

Inside the envelope were photographs of the actual massacre. Heads on the floor, blood on the walls, rooms torn apart. Broken bottles and glasses and all marked and documented with yellow tape of police evidence and cards. Zane raises one eyebrow, his face full of rage. "So, what? It's like I sent fucking amateurs instead of highly trained operatives! What the fuck is this? Tia? Hanzo? Fucking speak up! "

He pounces once more on the table, and it is as if the whole room shook from his very contact with the table. Tia jumps back, while Hanzo continues to tremble in the corner of the room. That's it, he's had enough. Zane jumped up, and in a second he was in front of them, grabbed both of them by the neck and nailed them to the wall and so lifted them up, their legs frightened, crumbling under him. " One more mistake like this, and you'll both end up in my room in the pain and suffering you've been pushing others into! " He let go of the grip on their necks and they both fell down with a loud bang. Coughing and squeezing their necks with obvious fear on their faces.

Zane ventured outside, hurriedly stepped down the stairs and stepped out into the cold December air only in his sleeveless jacket. There he was met by a driver, who had already driven out of Zane's black Rand Rover when he saw him run down the stairs through a massive, gold-framed window. " Where to, Master Zane? " The driver asked when Zane jumped in the back, running like an enraged Bulldog. "Valley avenue, need to kill some people!" the driver nodded, all you can hear that night were squeaking of tires drifting off in to the night.

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