The mansion gates closed behind him with the kind of finality that usually meant peace, except in his case it usually meant "peace until someone started something," which was statistically guaranteed within the twelve hours.
He dropped his keys onto the rack by the door, and the sound echoed through the entrance hall like the house itself was announcing his return with zero enthusiasm.
Saturday.
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, letting the word register properly in his mind like it was a foreign concept he was trying to confirm was actually in his schedule, because days without meetings always felt like traps disguised as blessings.
He had just decided on a bath, food, and sleep in that order, because anything else required emotional capacity he had already used up surviving the week, when he heard something from the kitchen.
A faint metallic clink, followed by silence that felt suspicious instead of peaceful.
He stopped.
