Thursday morning came too fast.
Luca woke before the alarm, staring at the ceiling in the pre-dawn darkness.
Beside him, Noel's breathing was steady and even.
He slipped out of bed quietly, padded to the bathroom, splashed water on his face. His reflection looked back at him—calm, composed, ready.
Good. That's what he needed people to see.
By the time Noel woke up, Luca had coffee brewing and was buttoning his shirt—navy blue, professional, the one Noel said made him look competent.
"Morning," Noel said, voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning."
Noel studied him from the doorway. "Sleep okay?"
"Fine."
A lie, but a smooth one. Luca had learned years ago that confidence was just fear with better posture.
Show people what they expect, and they'll believe it.
They moved through breakfast efficiently. Toast, coffee, small talk about nothing important. Luca kept his hands steady, his voice light.
"Nine thirty, right?" Noel asked.
