His angel of death

The black luxury sedan glided soundlessly through the towering wrought-iron gates. Its polished exterior reflected the golden hues of the setting sun. Praise Renard sat in the back seat with an impeccable posture, his gloved hands rested calmly on his knees. To anyone watching, he looked composed, professional—exactly what a personal butler should be.

Only he knew the truth.

Beneath the crisp uniform and carefully crafted identity, his heart pounded so violently it felt as though it might shatter his ribs.

The gates closed behind the car with a heavy metallic groan. The sound echoed in his ears, it felt less like the entrance to an estate and more like the closing of a prison. There was no turning back now.

The long driveway stretched ahead, winding through acres of perfectly manicured gardens. Praise observed everything through the tinted window, committing every detail to memory.

He memorized everything. From the security camera, to the guard post, the entrance and every possible escape route. Revenge demanded preparation.

Seven years ago, he had the dream of entering this world as more than just a servant. He wanted to be there as the face of Aurelius Luxe, standing proudly beside Dylan Loperse.

 Fate seemed to have a cruel and twisted sense of humor. Now he was arriving through the servants’ entrance, ready to become the shadow inside the man’s own home.

The mansion finally came into full view. It was not merely a house but a statement. The white marble and glass rose elegantly against the skyline. Every line of the architecture spoke of money, power, and absolute control. It was exactly what Praise had expected from Dylan Loperse.

The sedan came to a smooth stop. The chauffeur stepped out and opened the rear door. “We’re here, Mr. Renard.” Praise nodded, stepping down onto the gravel.

The moment his polished shoes touched the gravel, two uniformed security officers approached. Their expressions remained blank.

"Identification." Without hesitation, Praise handed over the forged identification card prepared months earlier. One guard scanned it while the other compared the photograph to his face.

Several agonizing seconds passed, the soft electronic finally chime.  "Verified." The guard handed the card back. "Welcome to Loperse Estate, Mr. Renard."

"Thank you." He offered a courteous bow. One hurdle cleared, a countless more awaited.

The massive front doors opened before he could even reach the stairs. An elderly man dressed in an immaculate black suit waited just inside. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his posture was straighter than most men half his age.

His sharp blue eyes examined Praise carefully, not with suspicion but with experience. “You must be Praise Renard.”

“Yes, sir.”

The older man gave a polite bow. “My name is Edwin Carlisle. I am the head butler, welcome.”His voice was calm, warm, yet carried unquestionable authority.

"It is an honor to meet you."Praise bowed respectfully.

"The honor will depend on how long you survive here." Praise blinked. Edwin's lips curved ever so slightly.

"I was joking." Or perhaps he wasn't, Praise thought.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carlisle."

"You may call me Edwin while we're working."

"I'll remember that."

Edwin stepped aside. "Welcome home." The words caught him off guard. Home? This place would never become home.

It was simply the battlefield where he intended to destroy the man who had ruined his life.

He stepped into the entrance hall and had to steady himself. The space was enormous and far larger than the entire apartment he had rented during his modeling years. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a soft light across the rare paintings and sculptures that lined the walls.

The marble floors gleamed, reflecting every movement with perfect clarity. The air carried the subtle scent of polished wood, fresh lilies, and quiet wealth. Nothing was out of place. Not a single wrinkle on the carpets. Not a fingerprint on the marble surfaces.

It was beautiful and strangely cold.

“You’ll become accustomed to it,” Edwin said, as though reading his thoughts.

“I’m not sure anyone could,” Praise quietly replied. A faint smile tugged at the old man’s lips. “We all said the same thing when we first arrived.”

He gestured toward a long hallway. “This way.”

They began walking through a long corridor lined with portraits of the Loperse family. Every painting featured stern expressions. Not a single smile, Praise noticed.

"So even happiness wasn't fashionable in this family," he thought.

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked. Edwin spoke without turning around, his voice steady and professional. “There are twenty-three staff members working in this residence — cooks, housekeepers, gardeners, drivers, and security personnel. You will answer directly to me.”

Praise nodded. “I understand.”

“There are rules,” Edwin continued, his tone becoming firmer. “You are never to enter Mr. Loperse’s private office unless specifically instructed. You are never to touch his personal belongings without permission. You will never repeat anything you hear inside this estate. If guests are present, you become invisible. No gossip, unnecessary conversations or mistakes.”

 “And if I make one?” His eyes met his.

Edwin stopped walking for a moment, his usually calm face became unreadable. “The previous butler asked me that same question.”

“What happened to him?”

“He resigned.” The answer felt incomplete, but Praise chose not to press further. Edwin pushed open a pair of double doors, revealing a spacious lounge reserved exclusively for the household staff.

Unlike the grandeur of the main hall, this room felt warm and lived in. A kettle whistled softly from a small kitchenette, fresh pastries sat on a wooden table, and several staff members chatted while enjoying their afternoon break

They entered and the conversations stopped abruptly. Curious eyes settled on the newcomer. Edwin cleared his throat.

“This is Praise Renard, our newest live-in personal butler.”

A young woman with chestnut hair smiled first. “I’m Nora, housekeeping supervisor.” She offered her hand, and he shook it politely.

 A man wearing gardening gloves grinned next. “I’m Leo. I take care of everything green around here.”

More introductions followed, and the atmosphere gradually relaxed. Most of the staff seemed friendly and welcoming. Everyone, that is, except one.

A tall woman in her forties who just folded her arms across her chest. “Let’s see how long this one lasts.”

Nora sighed. “Claire…”

“What?” Claire shrugged. “I’m just being realistic. You’re the sixth butler this year.”

Praise blinked. “Sixth?” Leo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Mr. Loperse has… high standards.”

Claire snorted. “High? Try impossible.”

No one argued. The silence that followed spoke volumes. Edwin clapped his hands once to regain order and handed Praise a leather notebook.

“This contains Mr. Loperse’s daily schedule. Study it carefully.”

Praise opened the notebook. Every hour was planned with military precision: wake-up time, workout session, coffee, breakfast, meetings, lunch, conference calls, dinner, reading, and sleep. Nothing was left to chance.

“He follows this every day?” He finally asked.

“For the past eight years,” Edwin replied. A man who controlled every second of his own life would naturally demand perfection from everyone around him.

Edwin glanced at his watch. “Mr. Loperse returns in an hour, prepare accordingly.”

The room instantly became quieter. Nora began straightening the flower arrangements and Leo hurried outside. The cooks rushed toward the kitchen. Even Claire stopped complaining and moved with purpose.

Praise observed silently as the entire mansion transformed. Fresh flowers were immediately brought in to replace the older ones. The dining table was reset with the curtains adjusted.  The silverware was polished once again, and every servant moved with disciplined efficiency.

The afternoon passed quickly.

Instead of assigning Praise heavy duties, Edwin gave him a tour of the mansion. The private library stretched across two floors and held thousands of books from around the world. "There are first editions here worth more than luxury cars," Edwin explained.

The indoor conservatory was filled with exotic orchids and bonsai trees. Every leaf was immaculate and every stone was carefully placed. Next came the fitness room, the wine cellar, the home theater, the indoor swimming pool, a private art gallery.

And finally, they stopped outside a pair of dark walnut doors. Edwin's expression became serious.

"Mr. Loperse's office.." Praise instinctively looked toward the handle. His heartbeat quickened.

Behind those doors, there could be financial records, private files, evidence or perhaps the answers he had spent months searching for.

"You are never to enter without permission." Edwin warned.

"I understand." He studied him for a brief moment before continuing down the hallway. Praise allowed himself one last glance at the office before following.

                                                            *********************

At exactly six o’clock, headlights appeared beyond the gates.

“He’s here,” someone whispered. The servants instinctively lined both sides of the entrance hall. Praise took his place among them, keeping his posture straight and his expression neutral. The front doors opened, letting in a rush of cold evening air.

The footsteps echoed through the marble hall and no one dared move or breathe. Every servant instinctively lowered their gaze as the master of the estate returned home., measured, and confident.

Praise recognized them immediately. His heartbeat stumbled.

Dylan entered without looking at anyone. His charcoal overcoat rested perfectly across his broad shoulders. His tie remained flawless despite what must have been a long day. He

Edwin hesitated. “The new butler arrived this morning.” Only then did Dylan’s eyes sweep across the line of servants. Slowly and methodically, until they stopped on him.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

“You,” Dylan said, his voice calm but commanding. “Raise your head.” Praise obeyed without hesitation.  Their eyes met directly and for a long moment, everything else faded.

The mansion, the watching staff, the silence. Only those cold gray eyes remained, studying him with unnerving intensity. Dylan frowned almost imperceptibly, as if something felt strangely familiar.

“Have we met?” he asked. His fingers twitched inside his white gloves. Seven months ago, this man had destroyed his life with three words. Now they stood less than three feet apart... and Dylan had no idea who he was.

“I don’t believe so, Mr. Loperse,” Praise replied, keeping his voice steady.

Dylan continued to study him, his gaze lingered on Praise’s face. “You have unusual eyes. I would have remembered them.”

Praise offered a polite smile. “I’ve been told that before, sir.” The silence stretched between them. Finally, Dylan looked away.

“No,” he murmured. “I would have remembered.” He removed his watch and handed it to Edwin. “You’ll be serving me from tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dylan took two steps toward the staircase before stopping again. Without turning around, he added, “My coffee, tomorrow morning at seven sharp. Black, no sugar or milk. If it’s cold…”

His voice became dangerously quiet. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Understood, sir.” Dylan disappeared upstairs. Only after his bedroom door closed did the servants collectively exhale.

Nora clutched her chest. “I thought he was going to fire someone on the spot.”

“He stared at you for nearly a minute. That’s not normal.” Leo laughed nervously.       “Interesting. Mr. Loperse never notices new staff like that.” Claire narrowed her eyes at Praise.

Edwin looked at Praise thoughtfully. “But today… he did.” Edwin thoughtfully looked at him. Praise just feigned a smile without uttering a word.

His eyes silently looked toward the staircase, his mind already racing. Tomorrow morning, he would stand alone with Dylan Loperse. Not as Vanel Lense, the discarded model but as his angel of death.