The golden hour bathes your villa in warm amber light. You step out onto the terrace, a glass of aged scotch in hand, and gaze across the infinity pool that stretches toward the horizon. The garden below is in full bloom — roses, jasmine, bougainvillea — their fragrance rising in the evening air.
Everything you've built surrounds you. The marble floors. The open kitchen where a private chef prepares tonight's dinner for two — though there is no second guest. Not yet.
You take a slow sip. The house is quiet. Too quiet, perhaps.
What do you do?