The private jet stood gleaming under the airport lights, a symbol of Bytebull's success and Richard's newfound status. As Richard and Feliciano approached, the ground crew greeted them with deference.
"Mr. Santamo," one of the crew members said, nodding respectfully.
Feliciano, now referred to by Richard as "Ciano," maintained a discreet but watchful presence a few steps behind. They boarded the luxurious aircraft, the engines humming to life as the jet began to taxi onto the runway.
Richard settled into a plush seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. As the plane awaited clearance for takeoff, he turned his thoughts to family.
"How's mother, Ciano?" Richard asked, a touch of concern in his voice. "Now that the mansion is lonely again, I hope the house isn't too bored."
