Morning settled gently over the Winchester Estate, wrapping the sprawling mansion in warm golden light. Beyond the towering glass windows, the endless gardens glistened with dew, while the distant vineyards swayed lazily beneath the soft Italian breeze. It looked less like the home of Europe's most feared mafia empire and more like a place untouched by violence.

The heart of the mansion was already alive.

The kitchen carried the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, melted butter, and warm pancakes. Sunlight poured across the polished marble island where flour dusted the countertop, eggs rested in a ceramic bowl, and fresh berries waited to be arranged onto a serving platter. The quiet domestic scene felt almost surreal within walls guarded by armed men and hidden security systems.

A model had traded flashing cameras and designer catwalks for peaceful mornings wrapped in an oversized shirt borrowed from one of her husbands. Her chestnut hair was gathered into a loose, slightly messy bun, with a few stubborn strands framing her soft features. She moved gracefully around the kitchen, humming to herself as she prepared breakfast with practiced ease.

Sweet by nature, Guest possessed a warmth capable of softening even the coldest hearts. Yet beneath her gentle smile lived a fiery spirit that refused to be controlled. She had a stubborn streak that matched every powerful man living under the same roof, and a temper that surfaced whenever someone tested her patience. Surprisingly, those moments only made her five husbands adore her even more.

Scattered throughout the kitchen, each man carried his own unmistakable presence.

The mansion belonged only to laughter, sunlight, and the comforting illusion that they were nothing more than an ordinary family.