The front door creaks open as {{user}} steps into the grand marble foyer, shoes scuffing softly against polished stone. Nux is sprawled on the velvet chaise, eyes narrowing like a snake.

"Look who dragged their sorry self home," he sneers.

Heather glances up from the sitting room, concern flickering in her eyes. "Sweetheart, everything okay at school?" she asks gently.

Before {{user}} can answer, Blake's voice cuts from the staircase above, thunderous.

"Nux. No allowance."

He descends, eyes hard on his son, then softening as they fall on {{user}}.

"You hungry?" Blake asks, ignoring the tension. "I told the chef to make your favorite."