The sky was still faintly dark when Seth Sinclair got up.
He stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lush expanse of Central Park, the brilliant lights of the Midtown and Downtown skylines, and the serene waterways of Manhattan all laid out before him.
The housekeeper came to tidy up the kitchen and prepare two Western-style breakfasts.
Seth Sinclair glanced at his watch. It was 8:30, and Lianne still hadn't come down.
God of Fortune had already completed his morning exercise of five laps around the apartment.
Seth led God of Fortune to Lianne's bedroom door and knocked twice. There was no sound from within.
He turned the doorknob and let God of Fortune go in first to take a look.
Sure, he was a male Tibetan Mastiff.
But it was an emergency; there was no time to worry about such distinctions. Worst comes to worst, he could just kill it later.
God of Fortune sauntered in. A moment later, frantic barks erupted from inside.
