The front door shut with a soft thud behind Matteo, sealing off the world outside.
The familiar scents of polished wood and leftover dinner hung in the air—a house in perfect, quiet order.
He loosened his tie with one practiced pull as he moved through the hallway, his stride purposeful.
He headed straight for Felix's room, a silent pull guiding his steps.
The door was slightly open. He pushed it wider, expecting to find Felix lounging on the bed or reading.
Empty.
Matteo's brows drew together. He stepped inside, scanning the quiet room—no open window, no half-finished glass of water, nothing out of place. No sign of where he'd gone.
He descended the stairs, each step measured but heavy, as if the day's weight had followed him home. In the kitchen, two housemaids folded linen napkins into neat triangles.
"Where is he?" Matteo's voice was calm but left no room for hesitation.
One glanced up, her hands stilling. "Mr. Felix? He's… outside, sir. In the gardens."
